


What's Another Year

by neapeaikea



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Emotional Turmoil, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Season/Series 04, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neapeaikea/pseuds/neapeaikea
Summary: While waiting for his flight to Bali, Adrian makes a decision to contact Detective Pearce. It may keep him out of prison, but is the alternative really that much better? Deran has no clue Adrian isn't following through with his plans, and spends the next couple of years angrily regretting his choices.
Relationships: Adrian Dolan/Original Male Character(s), Deran Cody/Adrian Dolan, Deran Cody/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 111





	1. Adrian

**Author's Note:**

> Oh well hello! A far too long and unrealistic _AK_ fic? You betcha! Everyone has their own take on Adrian leaving and how to get him back home and/or make Deran and Adrian happy again, and this is mine. This story is partly me exorcising all the broken and confused feelings the finale left me (and everyone else, including Adrian and Deran) with, and my overactive imagination where everything takes forever. Though I can't see their situation resolving itself quickly no matter what happens. Another element to the story's creation is the fact that I like Detective Pearce and want to see more of him.
> 
> I decided to include Deran/OMC and Adrian/OMC in the tags even though some of it is tiny and doesn't influence the endgame, since I figured some readers might be rudely surprised if I don't. But really, it's not a major part of the story, so don't worry. You're gonna have to bear with me through parts of this story because some of it is incredibly unrealistic (ie Adrian's parts) but I had some scenes in my head that I really liked and wanted to write and to get there suspension of disbelief had to be implemented. A lot of creativity is used wrt the American legal system. I in no way think this is close to what could happen in a real life situation. But I really, really like most parts, and I hope you will too! The grammar though, ay ay ay... The passing of time and the changing POV will hopefully be clear from the story, and aided by how the chapters are divided up. 
> 
> Title is one hundred per cent from Johnny Logan because Eurovision, that's why. Feedback is lovingly drooled on!

Adrian doesn’t know who’s driving or where they’re going. He doesn’t bother getting a look at the driver, just stares out the window at the lights from the buildings they pass by. His eyes are open, but his brain doesn’t bother translating the imagery into anything for Adrian to remember. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Deran shaking his head and fighting back tears. He sees Deran break his heart. He sees Deran after Adrian broke his in return. So he doesn’t close his eyes. He stares unseeingly and checks out from reality.

They’re heading north. The buildings eventually start taking over the landscape, artificial light illuminating the sky. The driver doesn’t say anything, and there’s no music. Whenever Adrian takes a shuddering breath, it’s loud as hell inside of the darkened car. At least he’s keeping his crying quiet. There’s a jumble of emotions inside of him, sadness, anger and hopelessness all battling it out. There’s shame too, and heartache. This is all on him. He let it go this far. There were so many moments along the way where he could’ve made a different choice, where he could’ve stopped the train from crashing, or at least slowed down the speed with which it crashed. 

It’s well into the night when they stop in the drop-off zone at LAX. The driver pops open the locks on the back doors without speaking. Adrian gets out without a word or a glance back. He hears the car pull away. 

The airport is surprisingly busy for two am. But everyone looks tired and the noise level is much quieter than Adrian wants it to be. He wants alarms, screeches, thuds, something to accompany the chaos going on inside his head. At first he scans the departure screens, trying to figure out where to go. He stares at people for too long, especially the couples that look happy or just plain normal. He has to look away when he sees two men embrace fondly. 

He realizes he’s not sure where he’s going because Deran was the one to sort out the passports, the travel itinerary, and the set-up wherever they were going together. Adrian slips his backpack off, rummages around inside it. He finds his new passport, and next to it, a printed out booking reference with China Airlines to Bali. He holds the objects for a few minutes, processing what it means that Deran put it in his bag. When did Deran do that? What else did he put in it? When did Deran decide to stay? Before or after Smurf died? Did he ever mean to come along? Was there ever a chance he’d choose Adrian over his family?

Adrian finds the toilets and holes up in a stall for half an hour, wiping at silent tears and wondering what he ever did to deserve such a shitty life. 

Eventually he locates the right terminal and makes it through the security check in a matter of minutes, though the whole thing makes him sick to his stomach. No one even looks twice at him. It’s all so wrong. He’s leaving his whole life behind him, his family, his friends, his fucking career, and no one gives a shit. Deran did, maybe, but not enough to give Adrian a real goodbye. He just spouted the same shit about family as always and Adrian can’t believe he thought they were heading somewhere where Adrian was a part of that family. Pope and J seemed to accept him, he’d even attended meals at the house with Smurf. 

But Deran apparently doesn’t think he is family, and Adrian’s loyalty to the Codys means fuck all in the end. He has to laugh at it, for years all he wanted was for Deran to leave his toxic family, but in the end it was his love for Deran that kept that family protected and whole while Adrian will never see his own family again. 

The flight isn’t for another four hours. Why Deran made him leave in the middle of the night, Adrian doesn’t know. Maybe Deran can’t handle his own cowardice in the light of day. Adrian hopes Deran suffers. That he regrets his choice for the rest of his life, that he’s miserable every time he sees the dinner plates Adrian picked out, the bed they fucked on, the lube Adrian likes. He hopes Deran will want to punch himself every time Pope goes psycho or Craig goes on a bender. Those are the standup guys Deran picked over Adrian. 

He sits at the designated gate for an hour, the same angry thoughts running through his head over and over. Deran fucked him over, and Adrian is just supposed to accept it for Deran’s sake, because Deran can’t handle the thought of Adrian in prison. The romance of it all is hidden behind the gloom of Deran thinking it’s better that they’ll never see each other again rather than taking a chance with Adrian’s case. Adrian had been ready to take the sentence. Or maybe he hadn’t, fifteen years is a whole different ball game than three years. But he never considered fleeing before Deran made the plans. 

He doesn’t understand how it came to this. He might’ve been in love and involved with a ruthless criminal for most of his life, but he still knows right from wrong. He knows he fucked up by doing runs for Jack, knows he made things worse by talking to the feds. But he helped them, he was instrumental in bringing down Jack’s crew. Why the feds won’t give him more credit for that, he doesn’t know. Smurf is dead, don’t the cops know that Adrian can’t give them her? Why can’t they honor the first deal? Why does he have to leave the country?

He looks at the flight boarding at the neighboring gate, the tired parents carrying sleeping children, excited youngsters and stressed flight personnel. He has absolutely no desire to board his own flight in a couple of hours. He doesn’t want to run, not without Deran, that was the whole point, for them to _stay together_. Adrian doesn’t want to be killed in prison either, but if Deran’s already given up on him, why bother with fleeing? What kind of life will Adrian have? It won’t amount to shit. The QS win will be the only record he was ever alive at all. Adrian hopes Deran keeps the trophy and shits himself every time he comes back home and sees it. 

Adrian gets up, startling a dozing man in the row of seats in front of him. He walks until he finds a row of payphones. Deran made sure they both left their cell phones at the house so they wouldn’t be traced. Adrian had been a little disobedient though, and has a business card in his front pocket. He takes it out, and hesitates. Is this really what he wants? Or does he want the life that Deran’s forcing him into? Is he really going to give Deran that much power over him again?

He dials the number that’s on the card, raises the phone to his ear. It rings, two, three, four, five times. Adrian wonders if he just managed to fuck up his life even more. 

“Hello?” Detective Pearce answers, finally. 

“Uh, hi. This is Adrian. Dolan.”

Pearce is quiet for a moment. “Dolan. How good to hear from you.”

“I… I won’t roll on Deran.” Adrian says, because he might currently hate him, but as little as Deran wants to see Adrian in prison, the feeling’s mutual. Adrian will never let himself be the reason that Deran does time.

“Alright.” Pearce says agreeably. 

“But I can…” Adrian closes his eyes, feels like he’s gonna vomit. “I can roll on others. I’ve done it once, I can do it again. They think I’m leaving the country. They won’t look for me. You can use me.”

“Are you leaving the country?” Pearce sounds a little more alert.

“I don’t want to.” Adrian confesses. “I can be an asset.”

Pearce hums. “Where are you?”

“LAX.”

“Stay there. Go to the chapel. Do not leave.”

**

Adrian spends over an hour in the chapel. He does not find peace, nor comfort. About ten minutes into his stay in the chapel, a man in a sports jacket and jeans had shown up and sat in the pew behind him. The man’s sat there silently ever since, not doing anything but looking ahead. Adrian knows he’s a cop, Pearce must’ve contacted customs and requested they put surveillance on him. 

Pearce shows up around five am, looking as blank-faced and professional as always, two cups of coffee in his hands. He offers one to Adrian. 

“Give it to your guy instead.” Adrian says, looks over his shoulder at his shadow. 

Pearce silently moves back, gives the other man the coffee. The man nods at both Pearce and Adrian, gets up and leaves. They’re alone in the chapel now, eerily quiet at the early hour. 

Leaving a good amount of space between them, Pearce sits down in the same pew as Adrian, sighing loudly. “Cody wants you to leave the country, huh?”

Adrian shrugs. 

“But you don’t?” Pearce asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Way I see it, my life is over anyway. You can tack attempted flight onto my charges.”

“Why’d you call me, Mr. Dolan?”

Adrian yawns, the night finally catching up with him, “You can use me. I can do things. No one knows I’m not on the plane. No one will look for me, trust me. Deran will make sure of it.”

“And why would I take you up on that offer? I’m an FBI agent, we’ve got all the moles and undercover agents we need.”

Adrian bites his lip, realizes how utterly stupid he is. He’d thought maybe he could still somehow matter, that Pearce would somehow give him a deal even though Adrian can’t give him Smurf, or Deran. “Temporary insanity, I guess.” Adrian laughs quietly. “Take me in.”

Pearce hums, takes another drink of his coffee. Adrian slumps down in his seat, suddenly overwhelmed by tiredness. They sit there for ten minutes, Pearce drinking and not moving a muscle while Adrian starts to fall asleep. All he sees behind his closed eyes is Deran crying, and himself screaming at him.

“You tired, Dolan?”

Adrian huffs, “Not at all.”

Pearce mutters under his breath, “Come on, kid, let’s get you a bed.”

Adrian assumes they’re heading towards a police station or some kind of government facility. But Pearce drives them east for an hour, then goes north. They pull up at a Holiday Inn and Adrian is way too tired to understand what’s going on. Pearce spends a couple of minutes talking to the receptionist and then they’re entering a room on the fifth floor, a single bed in the corner and a tiny desk beside it. There’s no phone, no radio, and no TV. 

“Give me your phone, passport, wallet.”

“He made me leave the phone.” Adrian says as he hands the other items over. 

Pearce flips the passport open, smirks at Adrian, “Patrick Smith, huh? Where’s your real passport?”

“I don’t know.” Adrian shrugs. Deran spent a couple of hours going over why it was so fucking important they only call each other Patrick and Simon once they left town, and Adrian wonders why Deran even bothered. 

“Got anything else he, or anyone, can use to contact you? Tablet, beeper, one of those smart watches?”

“Nah.” Adrian says. “You’re not taking me in?”

Pearce stares at him with that calm look he has. “The window doesn’t open. The glass won’t break even for a fire extinguisher. There’s no mirror in the bathroom so you can’t break it to use the glass to cut yourself. But you don’t seem like the suicidal type to me. If you were, you wouldn’t have called me.”

Adrian frowns. 

“When I lock this door from the outside, it can’t be opened from the inside.” Pearce continues. “Sure, you’re screwed if it starts burning, but if it does no one knows you’re here anyway. Where do they think you are? Your family?”

“At home.”

Pearce hums, “Cody was the only one who knew the plan?”

Adrian nods.

“What happened to change your mind?”

“He wasn’t ready to give it all up for me.” Adrian recites Pearce’s words back at him. It cuts right through his own heart. 

“Hmm.” Pearce doesn’t give any emotion away. “Get some rest. I’ll be back with something to eat in a few hours.”

Pearce leaves him all alone in the hotel room. Adrian has no fucking idea what’s going on and the rest Pearce suggested does not come because when he closes his eyes, he’s back on the pier, he’s back to when the cops first busted him last year, he’s back to the night that he and Deran first fucked in their home. It all hurts just the same.

**

Pearce stops by once a day for the next three days. He brings a book the first time, that fucking _Da Vinci Code_ everyone was talking about a decade ago. Adrian has no real desire to read it, but he jumps at the chance at distracting his thoughts and reads a third of it in one go. He’s better at rationing the food Pearce brings, like sandwiches and yogurt, burgers and salads. 

“What, no fries?” Adrian asks as he looks into the takeout bag. 

“There was a deal on the salad.” Pearce says, face absolutely neutral. “Sit down, Dolan, I think it’s about time we talked.”

They haven’t really talked at all since Pearce picked him up at the airport. Adrian doesn’t want to think about why. He drives himself mad with all the possibilities that might’ve occurred in the past three days. Does Deran know Adrian didn’t get on the plane? Does Livengood know Adrian skipped town? Is there a manhunt after him? Does Jess consider him missing, or will that take another month? 

Adrian bites into the burger, waits for Pearce to start talking. 

Eventually Pearce sighs, “You’re a tough one, kid.”

Adrian snorts, “Always been told I’m not tough enough.”

“A tough problem, not a tough guy.” Pearce amends. “You see, you should be coming up in front of a judge next month. I should make sure you spend time in confinement before that, seeing as you’re a flight risk.”

Adrian puts the burger down on a napkin. “They set a date, huh?”

Pearce nods. “But you called me up and offered your services. I think you should explain exactly what you think you can do that the FBI can’t.”

“You’ve got a hard-on for Smurf. She’s dead. But you were ready to do anything to get to her, you’d love putting her sons away. You were ready to use me even though my crime had nothing to do with them.” Adrian snorts, “You know that you knew about it before Deran did? Everyone thinks I’m a shitty liar, but I can fucking run circles around people because they think I’m so nice and naïve. I know my life as it is, is over. I think you have other people you’re after, people you can’t frame using your own agents. I can work for you. I’m not a Cody, but you’d be surprised at what I’m ready to do.”

Pearce chews, his jaw moving back and forth. He nods, gets up and leaves without a word. Adrian slumps down, lies back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. What the fuck is he doing? When did he start wanting to become a professional informant? This was not the plan when he called Pearce. Was there even a plan then? This is by far the dumbest idea he has ever had.

But Pearce hasn’t laughed at him, and hasn’t brought him to the proper authorities. Adrian might just be right about Pearce needing someone to do his dirty work for him.


	2. Deran

Deran stays awake all night, staring out over the dark ocean from Craig’s porch. He feels nothing. His body is tense, his shoulders up by his ears, his calves flexed. He doesn’t even notice it. He hasn’t noticed anything in the hours since Adrian crushed him to a pulp with his parting words. 

He knows it’s true, knows Adrian’s life would’ve been so much better if Deran hadn’t been around to claim ownership, beg for attention and love in the fucked up way Smurf taught him to. In the end, she did manage to fuck up the only good thing he ever had, not by forcing him to ‘take care’ of Adrian, but by never teaching Deran what healthy love or a functioning relationship was. Everything she told him and taught him from the moment he first drew breath, is to blame for how he’s treated Adrian since he realized he had feelings for him. 

Not that Adrian is without blame. Deran still doesn’t understand why Adrian ran coke for Jack, why he decided to make his own money that way. He’s furious at Adrian for making such a stupid mistake when he didn’t need to. 

But with the dark night enveloping him, the ocean lashing down on the beach in roaring waves and self-hatred coming back to all the crevices of his mind that he thought he had banished it from, Deran thinks that he would’ve fucked them up eventually anyway. Sure, he thought they were at a great place in their relationship, heck, he was even acknowledging it _was_ a relationship which felt amazing. But Deran was still too possessive, too clingy, too suspicious and most of all, too entrenched with his family, for them to have ever stood a chance. He would’ve gotten jealous of Adrian’s surfing career, worried that they spent too much time apart and Adrian would forget him. He’d ask for too much time and attention, he’d be too rough on Adrian in bed. He’d get him involved in the family business, he’d already started down that road by letting Adrian be his alibi.

One way or another, Adrian would’ve had enough of Deran’s shit eventually. He’d realize he was meant for more than being chained to a tough guy with dive bar. 

There’s a noise inside the house, probably something to do with Deran’s new nephew. He’s barely acknowledged the kid and knows that Craig is mad at him about it. But Craig has a family now, whether he’s with Renn or not. For all that Deran is furious at Adrian for ruining things by running drugs and taking that goddamn deal with the cops, he’s still utterly heartbroken because Adrian is his family. He’s the one person Deran wants to have forever with, wants to be boring with, wants to laugh at stupid shit with. 

Deran lights another cigarette and stares at the black sky some more. His thoughts confuse him, taking him from angry, to sad, to plain petrified. What if Adrian gets taken by the cops at the airport? What if they add another decade onto his sentence? What if something happens to Adrian next month, some freak accident that leaves him paralyzed, and Deran never hears about it? Has he made Adrian’s life worse than it would’ve been in prison?

**

At first, Deran loves the Codys’ new way of dealing with shit, which is beating people up. They make the rounds for a week or so, settling scores and letting people know they’re still a force to be reckoned with. Deran’s face has been bruised for what feels like months now, he can’t remember the last time he didn’t have blood on his cheek or a bandage around his knuckles. Every shit feeling he has about himself, the despise he carries for choosing his messed up family over Adrian’s simple and undemanding love, he pours into every punch and every kick. He doesn’t remember what the people he fights looks like. During the few hours of sleep he gets, the faces blend into a black mist that leap out at him. 

The days all blend together. When he’s at the bar he takes out his frustration and confusion on his employees and clientele. They let him get away with it because he looks frightening with cuts and bruises all over. He slips the employees some extra cash with their paychecks, buying forgiveness with money like his mother taught him.

He sleeps in the crawlspace in the office for a few nights, until Pope tells him to come with him home to the Cody house. It’s funny, he gave Pope a nonsense job so he could keep an eye on him, and now Pope’s the one looking out for him. They don’t talk about why Deran’s been staying at the bar, or why he’s extra moody and extra silent. Deran likes that about Pope.

He lays claim to his old room without caring or knowing if someone else is using it. He doesn’t interact with the others much, which is easy since none of the others interact much neither. Sometimes there’s food in the fridge that he’ll eat, but most of the time he sticks to beer and cigarettes. They have a couple of pow-wows around the dinner table, but Deran barely touches his food, and ignores Angela’s looks and comments. 

He smokes more than he ever has before, which is saying something. Somehow he stops himself from becoming an alcoholic, probably because J brings in a job and they all have to pull their weight. Deran secretly agrees with Pope and Craig that it’s too soon to try something, but out loud he sticks with J, because he is desperate to get that rush again, feel the high of pulling off a job without getting caught. He glares at Angela when she says it sounds like a good idea, that they need money to keep up with all of Smurf’s random payments around the area. But her argument gets Pope to change his mind, and Deran likes that he’ll get to smash some windows in to distract the guards at the jewelry store they’re going to hit. 

The job goes off without a hitch, but Pope stops by Deran’s room a day later to complain about the cigarette butts in the kitchen sink and the stench in the house. Deran starts sitting out by the pool for half of the cigarettes he smokes, stares into the pool and ignores every attempt by Angela to get him to talk. When she actually dares to say Adrian’s name, Deran grabs her arm, drags her to the pool and tosses her in. Pope throws him out the next morning, just as J is getting into his car to drive off on one of his never-ending errands. 

“You should probably check on your house anyway.” J says as he stops the stupid Escalade next to Deran, window down.

Deran grunts but jumps into the car. “Who the fuck is she anyway? Are they fucking? Is she his girlfriend? She’s playing him, you see that right? All that skulking around, acting like a normal person with Pope but like a snake when he’s gone? You should’ve heard the things she said to me last night, man.”

“She’s been playing us all since she moved in. Smurf and I both wanted her out, but Pope says she stays, so. The first group of people we beat up, after Smurf died, that was Angela’s brother. She snitched on him, that’s why she got out early.” J says. 

Deran laughs. He laughs and laughs, until he’s wheezing and tears are escaping his eyes. 

“You cool? What’s so funny?” J asks. 

“I can’t even begin to tell you.” Deran says. He supposes J knows by now, that Adrian talked to the cops, and that he left town because of it. He hasn’t told any of his family the whole story, not even Craig. 

“I know you’re feeling shitty.” J begins. 

“Oh no, not this shit from you, man.” Deran complains. 

“Nah, look, I’m just saying, I don’t think Smurf’s house is good for you. I get that you don’t want to go home, but the house with Pope and Angela… that’s only gonna make it worse.”

“You stay there.”

J smirks, “If you say so.”

Deran gives him a long look, thinks J’s a fucking psycho but at the same time he can’t help but be thankful for him. J’s changed a lot in the years since he came to stay with them, or maybe he’s just stopped pretending to be normal. Part of Deran hates and fears J. But part of him respects and appreciates him too. He was the only one with the balls to do what needed to be done. For a second when Smurf fell to the ground, Deran had thought ‘thank you, finally’.

**

J drops him off at the beach house. He inhales two cigarettes by the mailbox, sees the envelope from UCSD that is addressed to Adrian. He takes the mail with him inside, puts it on the kitchen counter and looks around. It all looks exactly how they left it a couple of weeks ago. There are coffee cups in the sink, a towel hanging to dry on a chair and Deran’s third favorite lighter is on the dining table. He opens the fridge, flinches at the foul stench emanating from it and takes out the case of Sol beer. He sits down on the floor and starts to drink. 

It’s hours later, his ass hurting from sitting on the hard floor, and the beer all gone, that he pulls himself up and stumbles to the bedroom. He stops when he sees the bed. He feels his face crumble, the tears he’s managed to keep at bay finally sliding down his cheeks. He falls down on the bed and curls up on Adrian’s side. His eyes hurt from squeezing them tightly together, and he hopes against all hope that Adrian is okay, that he’s found somewhere to live, some decent people to hang out with. 

He’s hungover as shit the next day, but knows he should check in with Kai. He kinda dropped her on her ass last night with the bar, meaning he needs to hand her another hundred in apology. He’s got his phone in his hand when inspiration strikes and he dives for the nightstand on Adrian’s side, grabs Adrian’s phone. It doesn’t light up so he plugs the charger in and waits anxiously. After a couple of minutes it’s charged enough for it ask for passcode. Deran has no clue what Adrian’s code is. But he does have a guy that can open the phone without it. 

Feeling oddly rejuvenated, Deran gets in the shower, cleans his hair with the shampoo and conditioner that he and Adrian shared, and decides enough is enough. He’s been angry with himself for most of his life and still managed to live life to the fullest. He can miss Adrian, be depressed about his choices and still be a good boss and a decent brother. 

Brushing his hair, he decides a haircut is definitely happening soon. He remembers Adrian saying he liked the short hair when he first came back from the tour. Maybe Deran will cut it that short again. He considers Adrian’s things on the bathroom counter, the toothpaste that tasted like bubblegum because Adrian was still a kid about a lot of things. He lets it all stay exactly where it is. 

He stops by the electronics store on the way to the bar, and has a conversation with Louie that ends with him creating a clone of Adrian’s phone so that the SIM card won’t start up and tip the cops off to the fact that Adrian’s phone is still in Oceanside. Deran slips Louie five hundred for the job and walks way with Adrian’s real phone turned off and the clone coming alive with notifications from a number of apps.

He holes up in his office at The Drop, going through Adrian’s messages and emails. There are a number of unread messages from different mailing lists, deals from Amazon, reminders from UCSD, invitations to surf events. They’re all unread. Wherever Adrian is, he hasn’t checked his email since he left Oceanside. No matter what app Deran opens up, Candy Crush, Instagram, Messenger, Verizon, there’s no sign Adrian has logged into his accounts since Deran sent him out of the country. He feels shit about the fact that he’s pleased. Adrian’s done the smart thing and stayed far away from anything that can lead the feds to him. 

Speaking of the long arm of the law, the only thing that really catches Deran’s attention is an email from Adrian’s public defender about his upcoming court date. Deran had never bothered to plan for that, since he meant to go with Adrian. But now, what’s in their house could undo everything, and fuck Deran over big time. Deran starts making a new plan even as he joins Kai behind the bar.

**

He sits in the Scout outside Jess’ house for a good while, smoking a cigarette and remembering the last time he was here. 

Jess hasn’t been by the house or tried to contact Deran in any way since Adrian disappeared. He’s not sure how much Adrian told her, doesn’t know if she knows he’s left for good.

Finally he mans up, gets out of the car and carries the boxes over. He considers leaving them on the porch, but Jess deserves more, _Adrian_ deserves more, so he knocks on the door.

Jess looks through the window first, and Deran sees her face go from wondering to murderous. She takes a minute to open the door. 

“Hey, Jess.”

“Fuck you, Cody.”

Deran’s relieved to feel her hatred. It’s what he deserves. At the bar and with the surf crew, he’s just said that Adrian and he broke up, and when pressed by Kai he said that Adrian being away so much made things difficult for them. Deran hates that he put the blame on Adrian, not that Kai bought the flimsy excuse for a second.

“I brought some of Adrian’s stuff.” Deran says when he’s regained his footing. 

Jess crosses her arms, “Why? Because he doesn’t live with you anymore?”

Deran doesn’t meet her gaze, “Look, his court date is next week. If he doesn’t show, they’ll come search the house.”

If anything, Jess’ face just turns darker, “So you’re here with my brother’s things to save your own skin, huh?”

“It’s for him. Believe it or not, this is all for him.” 

“I will never, ever forgive you.” Jess says. 

Deran wants to argue, to apologize, to do anything to keep them talking because he’s finally talking about Adrian with someone who truly cares. He used to think Craig cared about Adrian, until he made it clear Adrian was just another liability. 

“I kept some stuff.” Deran says. “The top box, uh, that’s stuff I think he’d like you to have.”

Jess’ mouth tightens into a line. There’s a sound behind her, and Deran sees Charlie tumble into sight, big brown eyes and happy face. Jess looks over her shoulder, then turns back to Deran.

Deran feels like an ass, but he has to make one thing clear, “If the feds show up here looking for him, tell them he moved out of the house and asked you to keep his stuff for him while he got somewhere else to live. Tell them you don’t know where he is.”

She snorts, “I don’t.”

“We broke up ‘cos it got too hard with him travelling. There was other shit going on too, tell them I cheated, I don’t care. He didn’t tell you much, just took off. That’s the story.”

Jess laughs, ugly and hollow, “He dumped your ass, only to flee a prison sentence the next day? No one will ever believe that story. You ruined his life, and now you’re ruining his memory too. But don’t worry asshole, your secret’s safe with me. Now leave and don’t ever fucking show up here again.”

Charlie comes up to Jess, grabs her leg. He looks curiously at Deran. Deran walks back to the Scout, lights a cigarette and floors the acceleration pedal, taking him straight to the ocean.

That night, he opens up a new savings account and makes a first deposit of a thousand dollars. It’s for Charlie. It’s Deran’s fault that he won’t ever meet his uncle again, that he won’t get to learn surfing from the best teacher out there. The least Deran can do for Charlie, and Jess, is make sure they’re taken care of. He knows Jess will be even less likely to accept his money than Adrian was, but if it’s for Charlie, she might reason differently. He’s never even bought a toy for Nick, but Charlie is suddenly an important person in Deran’s life. 

Against his better judgement, he also starts a second account, for Adrian. If he ever gets in touch with Deran again, if he ever returns or needs help where he is now, Deran will make sure there’s money waiting. 

The stuff of Adrian’s that he’s kept, like the surfboards and a notebook of sketches, he puts in the second bedroom that they never used for anything but storage. He rents a storage unit under an alias to keep Adrian’s car in, puts the QS trophy in there too. He keeps a figurine from Belize in the bedroom, and in the wardrobe there’s some items of clothing that Deran uses as much as ever Adrian did. He’s ready for the feds to show at any moment, so he keeps Adrian’s phone and real passport in the safe at the bar, rids the house of guns and unexplained stashes of cash.

**

“Wasn’t sure I heard right when J said you were staying at your house again.” Craig says, leaning against the railing on Deran’s back deck. 

Deran’s got a jacket on because he’s cold. He’s cold a lot these days, his bones tired all the time. He shrugs, “We need to keep an eye on Angela, she’s got her hooks in Pope. But staying there, man, it takes a lot.”

“Nah, man, it’s good you’re back here. I know it’s gotta suck with A… I mean, with everything.”

“It’s fine.” Deran lies.

Craig gives him a considering look, but doesn’t argue. “You know what Nick did yesterday?”

“No, I don’t, and I don’t care. Jesus, can you talk about anything but him?”

“Watch what you’re saying, man.” Craig stands up, raising to his full height. “That’s my kid.”

“You sure about that? You ever get that tested?”

Craig stares. “You’re so fucking lucky I feel bad for you, or I’d slug you in the face right now.”

Deran’s ready for a punch, body tense as Craig storms past him. He hears the front gate slam but keeps watching the ocean and nursing his beer. One day the thought of Craig’s little family won’t anger him so much, but not today.

**

Despite the fact that Craig is pissed with him, he’s still around almost every day at The Drop. Deran hates it but he finds it a little comforting too. Lord knows he doesn’t have a lot of that right now. 

His biggest comfort is the clone of Adrian’s phone. He looks at the photos, everything from skylines over the various cities he's visited and his nephew Charlie, to random ice cream cones and Deran’s naked body. Deran had blushed a little when he found those pics, hidden in a special folder. They sent a fair few naked pics to each other over the years, mostly as a precursor to sex, but sometimes for slightly more sentimental reasons. Deran sees his own flushed dick a few times, which is embarrassing as hell, but he also sees himself relaxing on a beach or raising his middle finger at the camera, clearly stoned. He wonders how much Adrian used to look at those photos. The last photo Adrian took was of their house, and the last one of Deran was him glaring at the camera. Deran can’t remember when or where that photo was taken, and it hurts that he can’t remember something Adrian thought was worth taking a picture of. 

**

Around a month after Adrian left, Detectives Pearce and Livengood are at the door with a search warrant. 

“What the fuck are you here for?” Deran asks. 

“Mr. Cody.” Livengood greets him, “We are here to search the premises of what is the last known residence of Mr. Adrian Dolan. I’m sure it’ll shock you to learn that he missed his court date and that his appointed lawyer can’t get in touch with him.” 

Deran doesn’t move from the door, “I don’t see what that has to do with me. Adrian and I aren’t together anymore.”

“No? I’m sorry to hear that. Considering you only just lost your mother. Must be hard to lose your boyfriend too.” Pearce says. 

“Shut up.” Deran snaps at the imposing man. 

“Be that as it may,” Livengood interrupts, “this is the address Mr. Dolan has on record with his lawyer, and we have a search warrant. We can do this the hard way or the messy way.”

Deran remains still for a moment. He considers all the things he’s put away, and the things that are still around. He should be good. “Alright.”

“Took off did he?” Pearce asks, watching as the uniformed cops begin searching the place.

“You guys finally scared him off, I guess. So thanks for that.” Deran says, hoping to give off a composed demeanor.

“It’s too bad for his sake he didn’t realize sooner what you are, then he wouldn’t be in this mess.” Pearce says. “When did you last hear from him?”

“I don’t know, the day he left.”

“And what was the nature of your last conversation?”

Deran snorts, “He told me he was moving out. I didn’t bother to ask where.” He doesn’t like Pearce’s calm but imposing manner, nor does he care for his invasive questions.

The cops are there for three hours. Deran alternates between following them around and being tossed out. Pearce is stationed by the door and always lets Deran back in, while Livengood is the one that yells at him when he bitches about the uniforms going through his things and that Adrian took all his stuff already. Each time Deran is escorted back outside, he swears he sees what passes as amusement in Pearce’s eyes. They might be working together currently, but all branches of law enforcement love fucking each other over. 

Livengood seems much more interested in Adrian’s whereabouts than Pearce. It makes sense, since it’s his case that Adrian snitched for. “You haven’t heard from him at all since he moved out?”

“No. We didn’t exactly part on good terms.” Deran plays into it, looks down at the ground where cigarette butts are scattered. 

“Any idea where he might’ve gone? In Oceanside or anywhere else?”

“He’s got a lot of friends in a lot places, he’s been competing forever.” 

“And you’re not at all concerned that he didn’t show up for his court appointment, nor that no one from the authorities can get in touch with him?” Livengood asks. 

“Not really.” Deran loves how Livengood looks genuinely frustrated. He has no clue how close he was to getting his face smashed in by Deran’s baseball bat. “Maybe if you’d stuck with the original deal, he would’ve shown.”

Livengood huffs and takes off towards the cars. Pearce doesn’t hide his smirk, puts his shades on and lights his own cigarette.

In the end, they take one of Adrian’s notebooks that Deran had kept, which makes him really mad, and they make a mess of the bathroom with towels all over the floor. The bedroom looks a similar state, the chest of drawers picked apart on the floor after they searched for hidden compartments. Deran’s furious, but he keeps it down because he’s also ecstatic they essentially found fuck all. 

Pearce nods at him as he leaves, “Take care of yourself, Cody. I’m sure it’s what Adrian would want.”

Deran frowns, and slams the door shut. 

**

It takes five months before Deran tries to hook up with a guy, and it goes less than well. He’s been too fucked up to really care about sex sooner but lately his libido has been back, his dick hard as fuck in the mornings and his hand not enough to scratch his itch. He knows he’ll never give love a try again, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay celibate. It’s not like he expects Adrian to stay away from other men. The thought may make him nauseous but he knows he has no claims on Adrian’s choices anymore. Maybe one of their problems was that he used to think he did have a say in Adrian’s decisions. 

Deran downloads the same app that he deleted when he and Adrian got serious, and swipes through a whole host of dudes. None of them looks like people Deran actually wants to spend time with. In the end, it’s a comment from Pope about Deran always being so tense, like he just got out of prison and needs to get laid, that makes Deran setup a meet with a guy via the app. 

It’s a shitshow. They meet at some bar across town, and the guy’s sucking Deran’s dick in the bathroom ten minutes after they introduce themselves. The guy’s on his knees and Deran tries so hard to not look down, to not put his hands in that jarhead-haircut, to stay in the moment and not think about the last time he did this. But he has to do it, because the guy is actually really good at giving head and Deran likes holding his partner down so they drool all over his dick and it all reminds him that he’s not with the person he wants to be with. Deran never thought he’d get sentimental over sex. He pulls out before coming in his own hand, wipes it clean on some toilet paper, gets up and leaves with a shit excuse and embarrassment burning his skin. He knows he pulled an asshole move, but what else is new?

He tumbles out of the bar and into the Scout. Before he knows it, he’s back at the pier where he said goodbye to Adrian. He stares out at the industrial buildings on the other side. He keeps meaning to get out, to walk down to the water, but there’s a physical weight on his legs that stop him. The weight doesn’t disappear until he drives away.

**

“You gotta come with me down the beach, man.” Craig bitches one morning, showing up unannounced at the bar where Deran spent the night in the crawlspace. 

“I said no.” Deran snaps, “I’ve got shit to do.”

“No, you don’t. You’re here to avoid the house ‘cos it’s that time of the month that you need a break from sitting around and watching Adrian’s shit in that fucking shrine.”

Deran’s eyes snap to Craig’s. When Deran comes home late from the bar, he usually spends an hour smoking and staring at Adrian’s QS trophy, which he brought back home after the cops searched the place. Adrian had been so fucking proud of that thing, and so was Deran. Even if he already felt like something was wrong between them when Adrian won it, that trophy symbolized everything he’d struggled for, all the early mornings and time away from family and each other.

“You think I don’t know about that?” Craig looks angry, not concerned, which throws Deran for a loop. “I know it’s fucked you up, him not being here. But it’s not doing you any good staying out of the water, man. Stop punishing yourself. He was the one that chose to work for Jack, he was the one that chose to talk to the cops.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Deran argues lamely.

“Surfing is your thing, man. Don’t let the ocean pay for your misery. She might make you feel good again.”

Deran wants to argue, to tell Craig to go fuck himself. What does he know about misery, with his son and with Renn apparently considering Craig’s marriage proposal. But Deran’s been looking at the waves for weeks now, itching to get back out there, to feel a board under his feet, the waves crashing over him when he wipes out. He just wants to feel good again. 

“You got a board for me in the car?”

“Heck yeah.” Craig grins, pummels Deran in the shoulder. Deran hates that it makes him smile too. 

** 

A couple of weeks after his disastrous hookup, he manages to actually fuck a guy at a house party Craig drags him to. Craig wants to get wasted after Renn decided to not make things legal between them, and Deran thinks beer and molly sounds like a great idea. When he comes buried deep inside a guy whose face he won’t remember in the morning, Deran drunkenly thinks things might start getting normal again soon. 


	3. Adrian

  
Not hearing from Pearce for two weeks makes Adrian antsy. Sure, he hates the guy, but he’s his only link to his old life and to his real identity. Pearce is the only person who might react if Adrian goes missing. Everyone Adrian now meets, meets him as Tom Duffy, always just moved into town and looking to get to know people worth knowing. He has no social media, a burner phone and a Gmail account that Pearce has access to. Adrian doesn’t mind being watched by Pearce there, it’s not like he uses it for any personal correspondence, since he has no one to email personally to. 

The only person he emails is his uncle Ray, who is, of course, none other than Pearce. Every so often he’ll think about setting up his own account, to email Jess, Chad, maybe even Deran. Then he remembers what can happen to him, and the people he cares about, if the wrong people find out where he is. He doesn’t know if Deran’s one of those ‘wrong’ people that should be kept in the dark about Adrian’s whereabouts, but errs on the side of caution. 

It all amounts to Adrian not starting any secret email accounts, nor getting a second phone. Pearce got him a tablet about a year ago, at the same time as he started paying for the streaming services that Adrian somehow talked Pearce into accepting as part of the fiscal deal for the super-secret undercover spying shit. Adrian’s certain Pearce tracks it, and the web searches he runs on it, so he tries to stay away from searching about stuff relating to his past life, like news from Oceanside, Instagrams and Twitters that belong to his old friends and family. But he doesn’t hide it when he does, and he never apologizes for hitting the surfing sites and following the careers of the friends he made on the tour. 

“I’m disappointed we have to have this conversation again.” Pearce says when he finally shows up in person, two and a half weeks after their last contact. He’s less than impressed with Adrian’s suggestion that Tom Duffy should have a Twitter account, in order to not stick out like a sore thumb when talking about social media with his marks. 

Adrian rolls his eyes, “I’m not going to randomly sell myself out to my sister on Twitter, I know the rules.”

Pearce hums, “I’m afraid that if you have an account, it would be too easy to follow her, and others from your past, and the urge would become too great. You can’t tell me you don’t think about going back every day.”

“You hate modern technology, don’t you? That it means the baddies can communicate without you having any clue about it, that you can never be sure you’ve got all their phones and contacts under surveillance. The benefit of being able to track someone via GPS or phone towers, that means nothing to you in comparison.” Adrian grins as he says it. He loves getting under Pearce’s skin.

“I’ll admit to that, when you admit you want to go back to Oceanside right this minute.”

“Of course I do.” Adrian says angrily. “Don’t be a dick. What the fuck, you leave me in Hicksville, Nevada for weeks without contact or a job, and I’m supposed to be cool with that? I do this to not think about my shitty life, I thought we established that a long time ago. Did something go wrong with the last job?”

Adrian has spent the past couple of years doing all kinds of illegal shit for Pearce. At first Pearce moved him from town to town, got him used to telling stories and selling lies. Since a year or so, he’s been doing longer jobs, staying in the same place and getting to know people until he can get close enough to get them on camera or tape saying and doing things that Pearce can use against them. Adrian has gotten used to wearing tiny cameras and microphones, but it’s still something he gets nervous about. Luckily, most of his marks are low-level dealers or criminals who like running their mouths and aren’t paranoid about everyone around them. Pearce may have blustered that night in the airport when Adrian offered his services, but it turns out Pearce is not treated well by his bosses and does not get the resources or manpower he needs to solve his cases. Adrian is Pearce’s very own agent, who works for a random pay and doesn’t report to anyone else. 

“I see you bought a postcard.” Pearce nods towards the desk in the motel room. The argument about Twitter is apparently over. 

Adrian shakes his head, “Nah, it was in the room already, one of the comps, I guess. But if I wanted to send one–” 

“You know I can’t let you do that.” Pearce cuts him off. 

Adrian crosses his arms, “What I was going to ask, was if you could make it seem like it came from Bali?”

Pearce tilts his head, a sure sign he’s interested. 

“My sister’s birthday’s coming up. It’s been over two years. One card, there doesn’t even have to be a message. She’ll know my handwriting on the address. I just want her to know I’m thinking of her.”

“It’s too risky. You know that, Dolan.”

“Please. You keep giving me shit jobs, ‘talk to that dude’, ‘befriend that bartender’. I barely know why most of the time. You owe me.”

“I owe you? Let me remind you whose brilliant idea this partnership was to start with.” Pearce warns. 

Adrian steels his resolve, “I could go to your bosses at any time.”

“And spend the rest of your life in prison.” Pearce points out. 

Adrian hates that Pearce has that trump card. Adrian fucked himself over when he smuggled drugs for Jack, and he fucked himself over again when he begged Pearce for an alternative to prison time. 

They eat the subs Pearce brought in heavy silence, Adrian ignoring his urge to put the TV on to make it less awkward. Pearce probably doesn’t experience awkwardness at all. Fucking feds. 

“Say I do get a card to your sister.” Pearce says eventually. “As a mark of good faith.”

“Good faith for what?”

Pearce leans back. He pauses. “I have a mission for you. One that might get you killed.”

That has Adrian’s attention. 

Pearce sighs, “There’s a group of people in Florida. I can’t tell you why we’re looking at them, but let’s just say your dear old Cody is a saint in comparison. They’ve avoided us for a long time. We had an agent but things didn’t work out. We got him out before they made him, but we can’t send another guy in. It would be a long game for you. Probably years.”

Adrian swallows. He doesn’t know if he likes where this is going. 

“You wouldn’t have to get involved in their organization at all. Start by getting them used to your face, and we’ll take it from there.”

“You want me to get to know criminals that your agent couldn’t handle, and then I’m just supposed to play it by ear? That’s suicide.”

“It’s what I’ve been training you for. You really think I needed someone to get street dealers on camera, or track the routines of corrupted politicians? I’ve been working long-term with you, and it’s time you start doing the same.” Pearce leans forward, “Besides, all you have to do to is work at a beach bar.”

Adrian can’t help it, the mention of the beach has him interested. He hasn’t had his own board since leaving Oceanside, and hasn’t been in the water more than a handful of times. In a way, it’s been the worst change to get used to, missing the water flowing over his naked feet, embracing him when he falls over. If he’s going to be near a beach, he could probably surf every so often. 

“You’d be set up with a place. Backstory. I’ll make sure you have funds.”

“And why exactly am I working at a beach bar?”

“One of the guys we’re looking at runs the sports store next to it. He’s in the bar a lot. All you have to do is get him used to you.”

Adrian sighs, “I don’t know, man. I’m not an idiot, I know half the shit you’ve had me do has been about learning the ropes. But you say you’ve got a plan for me, and this doesn’t sound like a plan at all. It’s like you’re desperate and need a Hail Mary.”

“I can get a postcard to your sister from Bali.” Pearce says. “And I can look at the charges against you.”

“What does that mean?” Adrian feels a sick glimmer of hope.

Pearce looks smug, “It means that the deal is back on the table.”

**

Awesomely, there is a surfboard waiting for Adrian in the apartment that Pearce sets up for him. He’s not sure who pulled the strings to get Adrian the job at the bar, but he shows up the first day and the manager seems to expect him, takes him on a quick tour of the place before giving him a schedule that lets him surf every morning if he wants to. 

Adrian has next to no bar experience, helping out at The Drop hardly counts, but he turns out to be a great waiter, learning the booking system and cash register in no time, and having a surprisingly good memory and the patience of a saint. He thinks the last part is thanks to him playing a character. He can take the insults and weird diet demands, and not give a shit about it because the customers aren’t actually talking to Adrian, they just see a dopey smile on a guy named Shane. Besides, he was involved with Deran Cody for years, patience with a few diners is nothing after dealing with his shit. 

Surfing helps him too, brings back his equilibrium somewhat, a sense of belonging he hasn’t experienced in a long while. The first week he’s out on his own, but by week two he’s approached by a woman who’s seen him out on the waves a couple of times. 

A few months into his stay near Boynton Beach, he has something similar to a surf crew and a couple of colleagues he gets high with on their days off. Pearce made Shane a California college dropout who’s been bumming around the country for a while, meaning Adrian can be vague with details about cities and people if he wants to. Adrian still tells a lot of stories from his real life, crazy stuff that happened when he was a kid, pranks he used to get up to with friends, best places he’s surfed. He changes all the names of the people involved, but he still enjoys talking about himself for the first time in two years.

He had met Sergio, his mark, after just a few days of working at the bar, as he and a companion came into the bar and ordered drinks. By now, Adrian is on friendly enough terms with Sergio to exchange greetings and nods when they pass each other on the street. It feels weird to not wear a wire, and to not contact Pearce with more than an email to ‘Uncle Ray’ saying that “all is well”.

At some point, Sergio hears that Adrian’s gay and wants to set him up with a friend. Adrian’s a little weirded out by it. He’s hooked up with a couple of guys after Deran, always one-night-stands in places he wouldn’t return to. This could potentially be a guy he sees again. He doesn’t know how he feels about that, or about being setup by Sergio. Maybe the friend is another member of the gang. Adrian can’t deal with that, can’t get involved with another chain-smoking criminal. 

But Jamie is nice, and they start something casual, both of them admitting they’re not ready for something involving emotions after having been burnt by previous relationships. Adrian doesn’t push Jamie for much information about Sergio or his associates, but he’s gotten good at masking his questions and learn a few things worthy of Pearce’s attention, like when Sergio is out of town and when there’s suddenly a big party planned.

For a year, Adrian spends time at the bar and the beach and not a lot of other places. At first both he and Pearce had worried that the town’s surfing reputation might mean someone would recognize Adrian, but no one’s ever mentioned it. He’s had his guard down for so long he barely remembers to bring it back up when shit hits the fan.

“Adrian? Holy shit, is that you? Adrian!” 

Adrian looks over from he’s wiping down a table in the bar, staring wildly at Tim, one of Oceanside’s most iconic locals. Adrian didn’t even think Tim ever left Oceanside, he’s been such a big part of the scene for all of Adrian’s life. Tim grins at him, coming over with quick strides.

Adrian panics, “Tim? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here?” Tim grins, two teeth missing at the front. He slaps Adrian’s bicep, “Man, we’ve missed you! No one knew where you went, and you know what Cody’s like, he doesn’t say shit.”

“Yeah.” Adrian says, looking around to make sure no one’s there to overhear them. Thankfully it’s early enough that all the other employees are in the kitchen getting things prepped, Adrian setting up the tables out front on his own. “You here to surf?”

“You know it, man!” Tim says excitedly, “We should head out together! Been a long time, man, how’ve you been?”

“Oh you know, same old, nothing much going on. You? What’s with the gap?”

Tim laughs, “I got fake teeth but I take ‘em out when I surf. I’m just gonna lose them in the water and need another fucking benefit. Cody’d lose his shit. I’m at The Drop all the time, you’d think he’d pull through for me.”

Adrian tries to not flinch at the mention of Deran, but it feels like a cold flash skids along his spine. He can’t do this, he can’t do small talk with an old buddy and remember everything that made him leave his home. Tim’s never been the best at reading signals, so he starts banging on about people back home, like Randy and Tao, and Adrian listens attentively with a churning stomach. He wants to know everything, wants to hear who’s been doing who and who wiped out the hardest, where they get their weed nowadays and how the surf shop is doing. At the same time, he really doesn’t want to hear it, because it’ll remind him of everything he can never go back to, how everything’s changed and he’ll never be a part of it. He laughs when Tim tells him a story about Randy setting his surfboard on fire to impress a girl, and is happy to hear Kai’s got a girlfriend. 

Hearing about Kai, while nice, is a little too close to hearing about Deran, and Adrian needs to shut that down before it starts. “Listen, Tim, it was great to see you, but I gotta work a little. Maybe I’ll see you after your surf?”

“Yeah, for sure! I just came in ‘cos I saw you through the windows, I’ll be back once you open.”

Adrian grins and bumps Tim’s fist when he holds it out. He waits until Tim’s out the door before hauling his phone up and dialing Pearce’s number.

“Hello.” Pearce sounds as neutral as ever, but Adrian knows he’s on alert because Adrian never calls without reason.

“I was made. Someone from Oceanside was here, he recognized me immediately.”

“Shit.” Pearce swears. “Where are you?”

“Work.”

“Is anyone there, is your cover blown?”

“I don’t think so, no one else was here when we talked but I’ve no idea who he’s here with.”

“Tell your boss you’re sick and go directly to the apartment. Do not stop on the way, and do not leave once you get there. Do not open for anyone but me. Pack your things. I’m getting you out of there today.”


	4. Deran

There’s a furious pounding on the door. Deran hears it from where he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling. He should’ve gotten up an hour ago, but he’s having an off day, again. Sometimes he can’t remember why he should get out of bed, and when he does remember it’s still not enough to get him moving. Most of the time it’s fine, his family keeping him on his toes and their stupidity enough to motivate Deran to get dressed and leave the house, just to make sure they’re all still alive.

Muffled shouts join the pounding. He can’t make out any words, but he hears that it’s a woman. It’s either Angela, in which case Deran really doesn’t want to open the door, or Renn, in which case he should open the door. Renn and he don’t really associate much these days, but if something’s going on with Craig or Nick, Deran should probably handle it.

It’s the thought of Craig that makes Deran swing his legs out of the bed. He pulls on grey sweats and finds a t-shirt on the floor. It’s been long minutes, but the knocking is still going, meaning whoever it is must really want to see Deran. He grabs his phone but there are no missed calls or messages about emergencies. 

“Alright!” Deran calls once he’s finally by the door, hand out to the side, ready to pull a gun from a sideboard in case the person on the other side is an enemy. He inches the door open, and stills. “Jess?”

“What the fuck is this?” Jess holds up something in Deran’s face. “What the fuck is this?!”

Deran opens the door completely, grabs whatever it is Jess is shoving at him, reads the words ‘ _I’m okay_ ’ and doesn’t understand. He turns the piece of paper over, sees five small pictures of natural settings from Bali. He’s looking at a fucking postcard. Hurriedly, he turns it over again, reads the message over and over. 

“Is this… Has he…” Deran trails off, his head roaring with white noise as he takes it all in.

“Has he sent you one?” Jess asks, voice wobbly.

“No, never. I swear. I’ve never heard from him at all. When did you get this?” Deran wonders, stepping to the side to let Jess in before closing the door.

“Today. Maybe yesterday, I don’t know, I was away.”

Deran strokes his thumb over the short message. Now that he knows who sent the card, he can recognize the blocky handwriting. It’s still on some labels in the kitchen, some notebooks in the desk. Deran’s been so good about closing himself off from all the feelings that swirled around inside of him in the months after he drove Adrian away, the storm that had him sinking into alcohol and depression. He’s tried to only think of positive things when it came to his time with Adrian, like the fact that once upon a time, there was someone that loved him.

“Is Bali where you sent him?” Jess asks. Deran looks up, and sees her, really sees her for the first time in years. She looks worn down, tired. It’s no surprise, seeing as Alan left her again, and she’s alone with Charlie and the second baby. Deran doesn’t know the name of her youngest kid yet, but he knows she’s put her house on the market.

“Yeah.” Deran clears his throat. “Is this it? Was there anything else?”

“No.” Jess sinks down on one of the chairs around the dining table. “I thought maybe he’d sent you one too.”

“I haven’t checked–” Deran starts, suddenly excited and nervous that something good might be waiting for him. But Jess shakes her head and crushes Deran’s hope.

“I checked your mailbox on the way in. Nothing in there.”

Deran’s heart has been trampled again, and his legs aren’t enough to carry him. He walks to the kitchen counter, grabs at it for balance. But it’s not enough and he slides down to the floor. He doesn’t care if Jess sees, if anyone sees. He can feel his hope dying, and his heart breaking all over again. 

“So it’s true, huh, he can never come back?” Jess says, voice throaty like she’s crying. “If he does, they’ll toss him away for years. I always thought maybe he’d…”

Deran wipes at his own tears. He hasn’t cried over Adrian in months. He wonders if Jess cries about him too. It hurts too much to wonder if Adrian cries about Deran. He looks at the postcard, reads the message again. _I’m okay_. Adrian’s okay, and that’s all that matters. Fuck, Deran wishes he was okay too.

They sit quietly for a couple of minutes, though their worries and questions are deafeningly loud. Deran hasn’t felt this close to a person since those happy months he shared with Adrian before it all went to shit. He has an overwhelming desire to get his hands on some alcohol, but the mere idea of standing up is preposterous, his legs and arms feel like they’re made of lead and his head keeps falling down with every unsteady breath he takes. 

Jess blows her nose, and Deran absently wonders where she got the tissue from, hopes he has paper napkins on the table. It’s oddly liberating, sitting quietly with her. If anyone can understand how much Deran still misses Adrian, it’s her.

Deran wipes his face with the sleeve of his t-shirt, “I’m sorry. I know you hate me, but I am sorry.”

“Oh, you’re sorry, that makes it okay then, does it?” Jess shakes her head. “I hate him too sometimes, you know. I hate that he let you treat him like shit for years, that he loved you for some unimaginable reason and that he let you send him away.”

Deran looks away. In rare moments when he’s honest with himself, he hates Adrian for that too. For showing him what real love could be, and then taking it away. For not being as honest and open as Deran thought they both were in their last months together. But Deran also hates that he thinks that, because really, wasn’t it Deran’s track record that made Adrian think he couldn’t talk to him about the drug smuggling? He’s downed a number of vodka bottles thinking about how Adrian was probably scared of Deran beating him up again, long before Smurf’s murder request entered the picture.

Jess sighs, “It wouldn’t hurt so bad if I could talk to him, know how he was doing.”

“Yeah. I… I have his phone still, not that I do anything with it other than look at pictures. He’s got some good ones, of you and Charlie.” Deran admits, adjusting the truth about his access to Adrian’s phone somewhat.

Jess lets out a sob, “Can you send them to me? Just in case he didn’t share them with me before he left.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I’ll send anything I think you’ll be interested in.” Deran says, considering the one that he found not long ago in a Messenger thread Adrian had with Kai, where she’d snapped Adrian grinning while Deran had his arm around him, QS trophy safely in Adrian’s grip. Deran got over any integrity and privacy invasion issues ages ago when it came to Adrian’s phone. He’s found a few surprises but nothing shocking, like the flirty banter between Adrian and some guy called Kirk that was on the surf circuit for a while, and the Carly Rae Jepsen songs in Adrian’s Spotify library. 

Jess gets up, holds her hand out, “I want that back.”

“Yeah, uh, yeah.” Deran hands her the postcard, and when he’s not holding it anymore it feels like breathing is becoming a chore.

“I’ll let you know if he sends another message.” Jess says, walking towards the door. She pauses with her hand on the handle, “Shit, this means I can’t move.”

“What do you mean?” Deran frowns, looking up at her from his place on the floor. 

Jess turns around, smiles sadly. “He knows my address. He sent me one postcard, he might send another one. I can’t move now, knowing he might be sending me messages and I’ll never get them. Fuck.”

Deran knows she’ll only hate him for what he says next, but he still says it. “I can help you. With money. Rent.”

She glares at him, “Fuck you. I don’t want your money.”

Finally motivated enough to stand up, Deran lays it all out as he walks over, “You’ve got two kids, your man left you again. You can’t afford that place, that’s why you put it on the market. I know that you hate me and my money, but like you said, Adrian might contact you again at that address. I have just as much interest in getting that message as you do. So I’ll help make sure you can stay there, for Adrian’s sake.”

Jess looks away, and Deran can tell how much she hates that he’s right. He can also see the moment she gives in. “I’m not gonna owe you shit. Way I see it, you owe me for sending him away.”

“Fair enough.” Deran agrees. “I’ll let you know if I get a message from him.”

She nods, “You do that.”

As she’s about to walk out the door, Deran stops her, “Hey, what’d you name the new baby?”

“She’s seven months, she’s not really new anymore.” Jess doesn’t exactly look happy, but she doesn’t look as lost as when they were talking about her brother. “Maisie Adriana. Her name’s Maisie Adriana.”

When the door closes behind Jess, Deran finds himself walking into the second bedroom, where most of Adrian’s stuff is stored and where he put the clone of Adrian’s phone last week when he told himself it was time to give moving on an honest attempt. He grabs the phone, crying before he’s got it unlocked. He cries himself raw in ways he hasn’t since the first months without Adrian.

That night he sleeps at Craig’s and doesn’t mention the postcard or the conversation with Jess. The next morning he plays with Nick and feels nothing. 

**

The first couple of weeks after Jess’ visit, Deran holds on to hope that he’ll get a postcard too. He watches like a hawk for the mailman, gets agitated when he doesn’t even stop at Deran’s mailbox as he makes his way down the street. He drinks and does more drugs than he’s done in a good while, fucks a couple of guys at the bar and throws them out afterwards. Craig and Pope quickly pick up on the fact that something’s happened, but Deran refuses to tell them what. Pope tells him to get his shit together at a dinner at the house, or Deran’s out of the job they’re planning. Angela agrees.

“Why is she here?” Deran demands, pointing with his fork at Angela. “When did we decide she gets to be in the inner circle?”

“Calm down. She’s brought us good work.” Pope says.

Deran turns to J, “You okay with this? You hate her more than I do.”

J watches from behind his ever-present sunglasses, shrugs minutely, “It’s too late to take anyone out of the job now. Either we’re all in it, or we dump the gig.”

“No one’s dumping anything.” Craig says, trying to broker peace. “Deran, just don’t be high during the job, that’s all we’re saying.”

Deran fumes in his seat, but stays quiet. He can feel J watching him, and it bothers him more than usual. J’s always been an observer, Deran thinks he has mental notebooks on all of them, their triggers, their vices and their strengths. He’s not entirely sure what J uses that information for. 

He’s both surprised, and not surprised, when J shows up at the bar the next day.

“What’s the kid doing here?” Deran looks at Nick, happily glued to J’s side.

“What, we can’t come see our favorite uncle?” J smirks.

“Don’t call me that.” 

J puts Nick down on the bar counter.

“Hey, come on! I just cleaned that, don’t put his diaper on there, what if he shits? You know how many health code violations that is?” Deran gripes.

Rolling his eyes, J says, “He’s wearing pants over the diaper.”

“Pants!” Nick happily parrots. He reaches out, tugging on J’s shirt. 

It’s somewhat of a running joke, how much Nick likes J. No one’s sure how or why, but from very early on it was clear that Nick liked J’s attention and wanted to play with him or be held by him. Craig’s never liked it, says Nick should be closer to Deran, but Deran is both thankful and amused by Nick preferring J. Part of the fun is that J is terrible with kids, but he still agrees when Craig or Renn asks him to babysit. If Deran was to spend real time pondering the matter, he’d probably guess it has something to do with J’s own childhood and having a junkie mother. But he doesn’t like thinking about his own formative years, so he tries to ignore J’s too. 

Deran’s pretty sure he only knows about a tenth of what J does with his time, but the thought of him spending time crafting his image as a hard-ass money mastermind of their illegal activities and having it ruined because Nick wants a day at the beach with his cousin is hilarious, and much more fun to think of than the way they grew up. 

“Hey, little man.” Deran holds out his hand for a high-five from Nick, but Nick just stares at the hand. “We’ll work on that. You hanging out with J today?”

“J!” Nick grins toothily at J, who has sat himself down on a barstool. J grins back, but Deran can tell it’s fake.

“What’s up? You know I don’t like kids in my bar.”

J snorts, “You don’t like kids, period. I took him ‘cos Craig has to get a van for tomorrow, and I’m not letting Angela get her hands on him.”

“See?” Deran rests against the bar, “You don’t like her. Why didn’t you back me up last night?”

“’Cos it’s too soon. We can’t make a move on her yet, Pope’s still too close to her.”

“Too soon? He practically thinks she’s part of the family. We have to get rid of her, man. She’s been twisting his head, I tried to keep him on track, but it’s like he went from one manipulative mother figure to another.”

J tickles Nick’s stomach, pretending that Nick’s awkward swipes are enough to keep his hands away from more tickles. “We’ll make a move soon enough, but it has to be something Pope can’t trace back to us.”

Deran makes a shocked face at Nick when the small boy turns to him, “Is J being stupid? Is J being stupid? I think so too!”

Nick laughs at Deran’s funny voice and face.

“That’s cute.” J rolls his eyes. “Speaking of stupid, you taking molly and coke when we’re getting ready for a job is stupid and you know it. What’s up, Billy sniffing around again?”

Deran sighs, leans forward and let’s Nick tug on his long hair, “He was around, I gave him some money to go away.”

“He keeps coming back because you keep giving him money.” J points out, reaching out to steady Nick.

Deran knows J is right, but there’s no point in being upset. Billy’s been back once or twice a year since Smurf died, sometimes saying he wants to catch up and sometimes with a lead on job. Each time he disappears after Deran gives him a couple of thousand. Deran doesn’t even know why he does it, why he’s resolved himself to taking the easier way of just entertaining Billy’s faults, instead of being mad at him and beating him up like he should, make sure he never comes back. It’s all probably tied to the childhood he doesn’t want to think about.

“I know he’s your dad, but he’s an asshole.” J says, finally lifting Nick off the bar.

“Ass-low!” Nick says. “J, I’m hungry.”

“Uncle Deran’s gonna cook lunch for us. You wanna watch?”

“Yes!” Nick hollers.

“So that’s why you’re really here.” Deran says, pushing himself off the counter and heading for the kitchen. “I’ll cook for you, but you better hold that boy tight. I don’t know if kids are banned from restaurant kitchens, but there’s no fucking way I’m dealing with the fallout of a two-year-old getting his hand in the fryer, not from the inspector, and not from Craig.”

**

Deran listens to the others, for once, and lays off the drugs for the time being. The job, hitting a weapons show at a conference hall, goes off without a hitch and they hand over the weapons to the Mexican crew J has lined up. Deran doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with the deal as those weapons can easily be used on the Codys themselves, but they’re all pretty tight on cash and the Mexicans offer solid money for the fast turnover. 

Deran needs the money so he can follow through with his promise to Jess to pay her rent, and so he can start a savings account for Maisie. He’s never told any of the guys about his plans for Adrian’s family and he’s sure as shit not going to now.

To make things look somewhat legit, Deran sets up a monthly transfer from the bar to Jess’ bank account as if she’s an employee. Things go back to normal in the following months, meaning he starts feeling lonely and depressed again, has headaches due to Pope and J’s mind games and Craig’s idiocy. He manages to go whole weeks without looking at Adrian’s phone, and somehow crams in more surfing than usual. He supposes he’s doing okay.

“That a new tattoo?” Renn asks one day as they’re coming up from the water, surfboards under their arms.

“Which one?” Deran looks down. 

“The one with the surfboard and the – oh.” She falls silent.

Deran looks down his side, even though he already knows which one she means. It’s a surfboard with stripes on it, and if you look close enough, the lines at the top of the board make out an ‘A’. He’s not tacky enough to have a heart tattoo, but below the surfboard there’s an infinity symbol. Deran knows what it means, and that’s enough. He got it on his left side, so that it could be big without people seeing it too often, his arm hiding it when he’s not wearing a shirt. He’s not ashamed of it, he just wants it for himself, “Got it a while back, actually.”

“It’s nice.” Renn says, awkwardly. “You ever talk to him?”

“Nope.” Deran sets his board down in the sand, tumbles down next to it. 

Renn sits down next to him, twirling her hair to squeeze out water. “I know it sucks, but sometimes I think maybe he was the lucky one.”

Deran snaps his head away from the horizon, “What do you mean?”

“He got away. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, partners have a tendency to disappear around the Cody boys.” Renn meets his eyes, “I don’t know all that happened, but I know you didn’t hurt him, and I know you miss him because he’s still out there somewhere, alive. I don’t think Craig will keep my stuff like you have Adrian’s.”

“What does that mean?” Deran asks sharply.

Renn shrugs, “Nothing. Just something I think about sometimes.”

Deran wants to press, but he and Renn don’t really have that relationship so when she gets back up and slaps her hands over her legs to get rid of some sand, he lets her get away with it.

**

Kai finally hands in her notice about a year later, and Deran hates it but understands her. She’s far too cool and talented to be stuck waiting on loser surfers for the rest of her life. She’s moving to San Francisco to try her hand as a co-owner of a sports complex. Deran thinks it sounds risky financially, but doesn’t have a problem giving her an extra thousand in her final paycheck envelope for all the years she’s endured his miserable ass as a boss, and as insurance in case the business venture goes tits up.

It leaves Deran understaffed, already down a chef after Matteo got arrested bringing undocumented Chihuahuas over the border. Deran had laughed hard when he first heard the news, but now Matteo’s looking at five years in Mexican prison, and Deran’s spending hours in the kitchen each night making burgers and fries instead of serving the occasional beer. It’s already meant he couldn’t participate in the quick job J had come to him with, and it’s really not helping with his eternally shitty mood. 

He’s out in the bar area, cleaning up and getting ready for the night crowd when he hears Tim talking loudly about his latest trip. Tim always talks loudly, probably on account of losing some of his hearing when a firework went off too close to his ear. 

“Pretty lame waves.” Tim says, or rather yells. “You’ll never guess who I saw though, Adrian! Remember, Dolan, the guy who used to be with Cody? He’s living there now, or passing through I guess.”

Deran freezes. _Tim saw Adrian?_ He turns around, heads to where Tim is talking to Dwayne and Zuko at a table near the exit. “You’ve been to Indonesia?”

Tim gulps on air, apparently having missed Deran’s approach. “Uh nah. I was in Florida, Boynton Beach, you know it?”

Deran frowns, looking between Tim and the others. Dwayne and Zuko seem very uncomfortable. “Florida? And you saw Adrian there? I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tim nods, having no clue of the minefield he’s treading on. “I talked to him and everything.” 

“You’re wrong.” Deran practically growls.

Tim finally seems to sense that something’s off about the conversation, and dials it down a little, “Look, I’m sorry I brought it up, I know he left you or whatever but–”

Deran steps into Tim’s space, looming over him with a finger in his face, “You don’t know the first thing about what happened. But you did _not_ see him in Florida, okay?” 

“Okay.” Tim says slowly, sharing a worried glance with his friends.

“Good. Stop spreading lies.” Deran levels a hard glare at Tim and then follows it up by glaring at Dwayne and Zuko too. They nod at him hurriedly.

Deran stalks away to the office, forgetting all about cleaning the tables and restocking the bar. He paces back and forth, agitated and full of questions. Tim’s had more concussions than an ice hockey player, but dreaming up a story about meeting Adrian would be weird even by his standards. But Florida? That can’t be. Adrian can’t be in Florida, there’s no way. Deran sent him to Bali, that postcard Jess got was from _fucking Bali_. 

Deran slumps down on the sofa, lights himself a cigarette. He never asked if the driver got him all the way to airport. He never actually checked that Adrian got on the flight. Everything hurt too much back then, he was too fucked up to ask any sort of rational questions about it all. But Adrian would’ve let him know if he didn’t go, wouldn’t he? If he changed his mind, wouldn’t he have come back to Deran? Yeah right, he’d go back to the worst thing that ever happened to him, makes total sense.

Deran sighs, closes his eyes. He spends a couple of hours working through a pack of smokes and a case of beer until Abe, his current and only bartender demands his help with serving. Abe’s let Deran fuck him a couple of times, even though he claims to be straight. Deran knows he’s asking for things to get messy and should probably stop fucking him, and probably fire him too, though that could end in a lawsuit and he needs all the employees he can get at the moment. 

Deran is distracted all night, and once he finally gets home, he spends a couple of hours going through Adrian’s various accounts that he can access on the phone, but there’s nothing there to suggest Adrian is in Florida, or Indonesia for that matter. Nothing’s been updated or changed since Deran watched him walk away with his head in his hands three years ago. 

He goes down to Tim’s usual spot on the beach the next day, and sure enough he finds him at the tiny stand, selling parasols and sea shells. 

“Hey.” Deran says awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot. 

Tim looks up from his phone, sighs when he sees who it is. “Dude, I won’t bring him up again, jeez.”

“No, uh…” Deran puts his hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture. “You sure it was him?”

Tim gives him a surprisingly sympathetic look, “Yeah, it was him. We talked about Randy, about the surf shop, Tao, you know…”

“Did he…” Deran starts, unable to keep Tim’s gaze. “Did he ask…”

Tim shakes his head. “Nah. Sorry, man. It was only a couple of minutes. When I went back to the place later on he was gone. I didn’t think about that until yesterday, I just figured he had something come up.”

Deran raises an eyebrow, “You mean, you think he avoided you?”

Tim shrugs. 

Deran bites his lips because he refuses to break down in front of Tim the fifty-something beach bum who’s never owned the roof over his head. “Could you, uhm, do you remember where you met him?”

Tim’s demeanor relaxes at that. He can’t remember the name of the place but brings up Google Maps on his phone and vision quests his way there by retracing his steps out loud. He sends the coordinates to Deran, and wishes him good luck. 

Lighting a smoke, Deran walks back to his house. Now is the completely wrong time to leave The Drop. He’s got a skeleton crew working for him, no one he trusts to look after the joint. Craig could handle it for a couple of days but Deran doesn’t trust him to not give away all the alcohol for free. But Adrian might be in the States, and Deran needs to know why and _how_. 

He calls Pope when he’s already got a bag packed and is in the Scout. 

“What?” Pope answers. 

“You’re a ray of sunshine, you know that?” Deran snarks.

“You’re the grumpy one, everyone says so.” Pope says in that neutral way of his that doesn’t let on whether it’s a joke, a fact or an insult.

“Whatever. Look, uh, I gotta go out of town for a while, think you can handle the bar for me?”

Pope’s quiet on the other end.

“Pope? You with me?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it, even though you know I don’t like people. If you tell me why you gotta leave town.”

Deran knew Pope would have questions. “It’s nothing. Just, Billy, you know?”

“You need to cut him out of your life. Stop giving him reasons to fuck you over. He doesn’t care about you, he’s not your father, not really.”

“I’m not in the mood for this. I don’t like him either, but it is what it is. Look, you can get Craig to help you, even J for all I care, he’s good with numbers. All I need you to do is clean the place and work in the kitchen. You don’t have to serve any guests if you don’t want to. Just make sure people pay, my employees don’t steal shit and no one burns the place down.”

“Fine.” Pope agrees. “But you call me if anything happens.”

“Sure. Oh, and if you have to take Angela with you, keep her out of the office, I don’t want her going through my shit. Hey, maybe she can tend bar?”

Pope makes a humming noise and ends the call. Deran throws the phone on the passenger seat and cranks up the music. It’s gonna be a long drive. 

** 

He makes it to Boynton Beach in two and a half days, only stopping when he needs to sleep or risk an accident. He doesn’t drink alcohol at all, but goes through four packs of cigarettes. When he gets there, he gets a room at a motel, has a shower and trims his beard. He’s oddly nervous, stomach at war with itself. He puts on a different outfit than he’s been driving in, black pants paired with a white tank top and a red shirt. He always thought Adrian liked him wearing red, it was a color that showed up a lot in both their wardrobes.

He pulls up the gallery of Adrian photos he prepared on his phone, with pictures of Adrian in different hair and outfits, not knowing which style is the most similar to how Adrian looks now. Maybe he’s trimmed it short like he did when they were twenty, or he’s bleached it to try something new. 

Nervous as all hell, Deran makes his way to the bar at the coordinates Tim gave him. He sits down and orders coke and a burger. He barely eats, constantly looking around the room for a familiar face. It’s been an hour when he flags down his waitress and shows her the pictures of Adrian.

“Have you seen him? I, uh, I kinda broke his heart and I’ve regretted it ever since, and I heard he might be here.”

“Oh honey,” the waitress, whose nametag says Lilah, sits down opposite him and puts her hand on his arm, “Shane’s gone. Just took off one day. We don’t know why. He didn’t show up to work or answered his phone, so Marcus went to his place, but the super said he took off, dropped off an envelope with the keys in without even asking for the deposit back.”

Deran is about to ask who Shane is but catches himself in time to protect Adrian’s apparent lie. 

Lilah looks at him in contemplation, “You’re not some abusive ex he’s trying to get away from, are you?”

“What, no!” Deran exclaims, before realizing some might say he is an abusive ex. “No, I’m just looking for him. I didn’t handle things well at the end, and now none of us back home, not even his sister, has seen him in years.”

Lilah gives him another considering look. “He never said anything. He didn’t say much about any past relationship, come to think of it. Why don’t you give me your number and if he ever comes back, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Deran gets the phone number Lilah had to ‘Shane’, and manages to get his address too, but the phone number is not in use any longer and there’s new people living in the tiny apartment that don’t recognize Adrian’s picture at all. 

He spends a couple of days asking around, talks to some other of Adrian’s co-workers, people down on the beach and in town. In one bar, it feels like he walks in on a gang debating business, because they all carry themselves like they’re packing heat and watch him like he’s worth less than the shit under a dog’s foot. He gets the hell out of there without showing them Adrian’s picture.

None of the people he talks to have seen Adrian for about two weeks, which adds up with when Tim was in town. It tells Deran two things, one, up until two weeks ago, Adrian was alive and had spent almost a year in Florida, and two, he took off the moment someone from his past recognized him. 

Deran rents a surfboard and gives the waves a go before he leaves town. He feels like a dumb shit for thinking it brings him closer to Adrian somehow. He spends hours in the water, imagines Adrian next to him, wonders what stories he’s got from the past years. Thinks about what stories he’d choose to share with Adrian in kind.

The drive home gives him time to contemplate things further. Where is Adrian now? Did he leave Boynton Beach on his own terms, or did someone make him leave? Is he alive? His disappearance timing with Tim’s visit can be coincidental. Did he ever go to Bali? Where did the postcard come from then? Shit, does Jess know anything? Why does he go by Shane? 

When he crosses the state line into California, he turns his phone back on. He’d turned it off because he didn’t want J or any of the others to go psycho and track him through some GPS hacking shit. The messages and notifications start pouring in, some useless email newsletters and Instagram messages, but when he’s stopped at a gas station in El Centro, he finally reads the alarming number of texts from his brothers and oldest nephew. At first it’s Craig asking shit about the bar, but two days ago they all started sending demanding texts and leaving voicemails. 

Craig: _Where the fuck are you? Get back here NOW, Angela’s dead, Pope is going mental._

Craig: _Come the fuck on! Get back!_

Craig: _NOW DERAN_

Pope: _Pick up your phone._

Craig: _Pope’s trying to kill J, fucking get here!_

J: _When you’re done with whatever you’re doing, you should stop by the house._

Deran’s eyes are bulging out of their sockets by the time he’s read all the messages. He goes for the safe option and calls Craig. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Craig demands without any greeting. 

“I had business to take care of, what the fuck’s going on, Angela’s dead?”

“Yeah, man, she OD’d a couple of nights ago. She was alone at the house, Pope found her when he came back from the bar.”

“Fuck. What’s with him and J?”

Craig groans, like he’s tired of their stupid family, “Pope thinks it’s J’s fault somehow. That he gave her the drugs, that he spiked it, or even fucking put the needle in her. He beat him to a pulp, I was this close to not getting him off in time.”

Deran slams his hand against the Scout. “Fuck. Did J do it?”

“Honestly?” Craig says. “I don’t know. I know he wanted her gone, but she’d been using for a good while, Pope just didn’t wanna see it.”

“Where are you now?” Deran asks. 

“The compound. Renn’s taken Nick to see some family down south, so it works out. Where are you, you back yet?”

“Gimme a couple of hours, I’ll get there. Just,” Deran sighs, “don’t let anyone murder anyone else until I get there.”

**

Angela’s death means another power shift in the family, now that Pope doesn’t have anyone whispering in his ear, or anyone to save. Pope barely speaks to Deran that first night, except to say that if Deran was in any way responsible, like leaving the bar in Pope’s hands so that J would have an opportunity to murder Angela, Pope will kill him. It’s a tense couple of days after that, Pope preparing Angela’s cremation and J reminding them all he’s the boss of their finances by sending out reminders to pick up rent from their tenants and sign various tax papers. 

“Did you do it?” Deran asks, cornering a bruised J in the bowling alley. 

J gives him a steady look, “Does it matter? She’s gone. No one’s gonna miss her. She was a cokehead who got lucky but she was still always a cokehead.”

Deran shakes his head, “If Pope asks, I had nothing to do with it.”

“How could you? You were out of town.” 

Deran narrows his eyes. Maybe J did plan this all, maybe he did use Deran’s absence as an excuse. “What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“From me. What do you want from me?”

J smirks, “Nothing, uncle Deran. Just stick with me, and we’ll all be fine.”

Deran does not like that sentence at all, doesn’t even know what it’s implicating but still gets shivers from it. He distracts himself from the drama by stopping by Tim’s ramshackle stand. 

“Hey Cody. All good?” Tim asks. “Heard there was an ambulance at Smurf’s place a couple of days back.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Deran waves the question away.

“Cool. Did you go to Florida? Heard from Craig you were out of town on business, I figured…”

Deran crosses his arms, “Did you tell him, or anyone else, about Florida?”

“Nah, man!” Tim holds his hands out in a disarming move. “I’m sick of you holding a grudge for no reason so I haven’t even said your name. Figured with the way you blew up about it, Florida was off limits.”

“Sometimes you’re a lot smarter than you look.” Deran says. 

Tim frowns, “Uh, thanks. Did you find him?”

Deran has to look away at that, “Nah. He was long gone by the time I got there. Did you… fuck. Did he seem happy?”

“Fuck, man, I don’t know. If he was happy? How the fuck am I supposed to know? I’ve never fucked him.”

Deran grabs Tim’s shirt, pulls him in and practically spits in his face, “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Tim cries out, “Shit, take it easy.”

Deran lets him go, but stays close. 

“Fuck, dude, he looked like Adrian.” Tim relents. “You know? He was taller than I remembered, buffer too. But he looked like himself. You’re the one who knows whether that means he’s happy or not.”

Deran nods, gives Tim a twenty and grabs a seashell as he leaves. 


	5. Adrian

Five days after meeting Tim in Boynton Beach, Adrian’s watching a tennis match on the TV in a motel room in Columbus, Ohio. Pearce drove him all the way there, and is still with him, which is unusual. During the three years they’ve worked together, they’ve never spent this much time together. The room is even a double, with a bed for them each, though Adrian doubts Pearce slept the previous night. He hasn’t seen him sleep at all since leaving Boynton Beach with zero results for the year of work they put in. Adrian’s oddly disappointed about that. It’s not his investigation, and he may hate the feds and Pearce specifically, but he has some work pride that leaves him feeling wanting after the botched mission. 

Pearce comes back to the room with a bag from some salad bar chain and a pleased look on his face. 

“Salad, again with the salad.” Adrian bitches, because this part is old hat between them by now. 

“You should thank me, you’ve been slacking off on your workout, don’t think I don’t notice.” Pearce says. 

“Ugh, don’t say shit like that, we’re not friends. If anything you’re my Fuches.” 

“Your what?” Pearce takes out a salad wrap from the bag, hands it to Adrian. 

“Fuches. You ever watch that show _Barry_? You should, it’s totally our setup, only with assassins and money. I’m Bill Hader, and you’re Fuches.”

Pearce stares at Adrian for a moment. “Eat your wrap.”

Adrian laughs, looks back at the tennis match. They watch it in silence as they eat, exchanging a few mutters at net balls and close calls. 

Pearce doesn’t let Adrian leave the room for two more days. 

“Come on, man, I’m going crazy in here. You can’t bring things back to how they were in the beginning, you can’t keep me locked up. I’ve proved myself, it’s not my fault Tim was there.” Adrian moans on the third morning. 

“You’re in here for your own protection. You said Tim knows Cody, and that he’ll probably tell him about meeting you. What do you think Cody will do if he finds out you’re in the country? If he tracks you down? I wouldn’t want that to happen if I were you.” Pearce says calmly. 

Adrian knows he’s right, knows that Deran knowing Adrian is in the States is potentially disastrous. If one of his brothers finds out, things could very well end with Adrian’s death. “You don’t want that to happen either, ‘cos it’d mean people finding out you’ve been hiding a fugitive.”

Pearce raises an eyebrow, “I guess we both hope Tim keeps his mouth shut.”

“You’re not gonna…” Adrian frowns, “You’re not gonna do anything to Tim, right?”

“Not unless it becomes absolutely imperative. From what you told me, this Tim sounds like a drug addict and a less than reliable witness. I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

Pearce might say they won’t have a problem, but Adrian knows the detective still has a plan in case a situation arises. 

It’s one more day of being cooped up before Pearce seems to reach a decision.

“I need to get back to work, see what I can salvage from the operation in Florida. I’m trusting you to not seek Tim out, or anyone else.” Pearce says. 

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been sticking around, ‘cos you think meeting Tim made me homesick. I know you’re never gonna trust me, but don’t you think I would’ve contacted Deran by now if I wanted to?”

Pearce shrugs, puts on his coat, “You don’t trust me either. You know, I can’t quite figure you out, Dolan. Whenever you mention Cody, it’s to say you’re done with him. Yet you still refuse to tell me what you know about him and his family.”

Adrian runs a hand through his hair, “I guess I’m more loyal than he deserves.”

“You got that right.” Pearce agrees. “He made you leave. If he knew you were working with me, even on things that doesn’t concern him, he’d probably stop protecting you. I could make him pay for the way he’s treated you. There’s an easy way for you to go back to your family. Tell me what you know, and I’ll make sure you get off easy.”

“That’s what you said before Florida too, that the deal was back on the table. I did my part. You should honor your part.” Adrian argues.

“These things take time, Dolan. Unfortunately I didn’t have enough time to make things work with regards to your charges before I had to pull you out.”

Adrian snorts, “Sure, whatever.”

Pearce gets his things, and with a few last orders about not getting into trouble around town and to wait for further instructions, he finally heads for the door. 

“Hey, uh,” Adrian says as a thought hits him for the first time, “you’d tell me, if something happened to Deran? I know I’m stuck being your dumb bitch because I don’t know anything about those alleged crimes you think he’s committed–” 

Pearce chuckles at that, but Adrian presses on. 

“–but if the situation was to change in Oceanside, if he got into trouble on his own, you’d let me know, right?”

Pearce gives him another one of those hard stares, but in the end just nods and heads out. 

** 

The first night without Pearce around, Adrian finds himself a gay bar and someone to keep him warm for the night. He goes back a couple of nights in a row, happy to not have to care about a fake persona or keeping his eyes and ears open for any information that might be pertinent to one of Pearce’s cases. He still uses a fake name to play it safe, but tells the guys he hooks up with he’s from California and talks about surfing in a way that feels true to his real identity. 

He feels like he’s on vacation, liberated by not having a false identity or story to remember. He hadn’t realized he needed a break so bad. He keeps mostly to himself during the days, goes to a couple of museums and exhibitions and feels like a real tourist. He explores most of Columbus by foot, and winds up talking to a guy who is conducting an experiment for his college sociology class by simply striking up conversations with strangers in different settings. Adrian tells Jeremy his real name since he thinks they’ll only talk for a few minutes. But Jeremy is funny, and very cute, and not at all hiding the fact that he thinks Adrian is hot, so when half an hour has gone by, Adrian accepts the offer of a date that night. 

Jeremy takes him to a burger joint and then out for drinks at a different, much classier gay bar than the one Adrian’s been hanging out in. Jeremy is a lot younger than Adrian, but instead of finding him immature, Adrian thinks Jeremy is smart, insightful and able to hold a conversation about other things than social media and memes. 

“You really don’t have Twitter or Insta or any of that?” Jeremy asks, as they’re sipping some orange drink Adrian hadn’t caught the name of. 

Adrian shrugs, he’s used to the question by now, and he goes with his stock answer, “I did, but it just stressed me out. I talk to people in other ways.”

“That’s part of the idea behind my experiment, if people are okay talking to random strangers online, about everything from sex to sport to politics, are they also okay with talking to strangers in the street?” Jeremy says.

Adrian puts on his most charming smile, “We haven’t talked about sex yet.”

“When it comes to sex I’m more of a doer than a talker.” Jeremy says, sucking on the straw in his drink. 

An hour later they’re at Jeremy’s tiny dorm room, sucking each other off like it’s going out of style. 

**

Adrian stays the night, and gets Jeremy’s number. Pearce gave him another burner phone before leaving and Adrian feels an illicit thrill like he hasn’t in years when he programs Jeremy’s number in there. 

He knows he shouldn’t, that it’s doomed from the beginning, but the next night as he’s watching some braindead superhero movie, he texts Jeremy. They keep up a steady stream of flirty, random texts, and decide on date number two. 

Adrian sticks to the go-to cover story that he and Pearce decided on years ago, that he’s travelling the country after getting out of a rough relationship. Adrian has never liked the ‘finding himself’-portion of the story, nor that it’s supposed to remind him of what an asshole Deran is, but it comes in handy when only creating shallow friendships with people before moving to the next city. 

As the weeks pass, Jeremy and he go on more dates and Adrian gets to know him better. He learns about him growing up a Mormon, about his swimming career petering out at 18 and how much he loves burgers. He finds Jeremy so open, sweet, and funny, that he starts thinking about telling him he was a competitive surfer, just to prove that he can understand being upset about losing a career in sports. But he knows he can’t, knows that can put Jeremy in trouble too. Pearce hasn’t been in touch other than via a text per week, but Adrian knows he’d move him to a different city if he knew Adrian was actually starting to get attached to someone. 

It takes three months before Adrian’s fragile peace is shattered, waking up one morning in Jeremy’s bed to see he has three missed calls from Pearce.

**

“You’re kidding, right? The freaking mafia?”

Pearce takes his shades off, “We’ve been working these guys for years. Every agent we’ve had on the case has been made, or found nothing for us to work with. I think there are agents on their payroll, maybe several.”

Adrian shakes his head, pacing back and forth beside the car in a deserted parking lot somewhere near the border between Ohio and Pennsylvania. “This is some _The Departed_ shit. You know how that one ends? Not good for anyone!”

“Great movie.” Pearce mutters. 

Adrian stops, taken aback. It might be the first time Pearce has willingly said anything about pop culture or given any kind of insight to his life outside of law enforcement. “Well, yeah. Too many Boston accents though.”

Pearce gives him an amused look, but switches back to their original conversation. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think you can pull it off. I’ve already got an ID and story waiting for you. You’re not going in as a prospective member or active participant in anything. We’re doing the same as in Florida, a long job, probably a couple of years.”

Sighing, Adrian rubs the back of his own neck, “I don’t know… Florida was supposed to take years, and you had to pull me out after one, with nothing to show for it. If I’m going to be in it that long, I want to at least feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

“Wanna contribute to society, huh? Put some bad guys in jail? You know there’s an easier way for you to do that.”

Adrian rolls his eyes, “I don’t know why you still believe Deran’s some criminal. I’ve told you he’s not.”

It’s almost a joke between them, Adrian denying any knowledge of Deran’s criminal activities. Pearce seems amused by it, like that’s the only reason he keeps bringing it up. It’s one of the few times Adrian even thinks about Deran these days. Right now, he’s getting over Jeremy and the relationship that never was. Not that Pearce has any knowledge about that.

“Their accountant has a new kid on the payroll. Your age, athletic build, I’ve been told he looks like Novak Djokovic. Gay.”

“Ah.” Adrian starts pacing again, “So you want me to sleep with him. Become his lover, gain his trust and sell him out. Now why does that sound familiar?”

“Perhaps this time you won’t let love get in the way of telling the truth.” Pearce says.

“Fuck you.” Adrian snaps. “No, really, fuck you. I’ve been your bitch how long now? I fucking do everything you say, and I get nothing for it.”

“I supply you with enough money for you to buy what you need. I set you up with living arrangements, you have an iPad, every streaming service imaginable and I only check in twice a month, because you can do whatever you want so long as you get the job done. You think I let other informants act like that? Hell, even undercover agents don’t get that much freedom.”

“I don’t have my family! I don’t get to talk to anyone back home! Did you even send that postcard to Jess? Has my deal ever been back on the table?” Adrian almost feels like crying, and he doesn’t even know why. They’re standing in a parking lot by an abandoned general store in some forgotten town in O-fucking-hio and he’s having a breakdown. 

“I’m close to a change in your arrest warrant.”

“The fuck does that even mean?” Adrian splays his hands out.

“It means that if you do this job, if you can get actual evidence that we can use against the Fellinis and get them convicted, maybe you can talk to your family again.”

Adrian knows in that second that he’ll do it. He’ll whore himself out, will sleep with the guy and put on the act of a worried lover, because he’s tired. He’s tired of not having a family, of having to lie when he talks to someone, of not being able to ask mundane questions without it being premeditated. With some of the people he’s met and fucked over, it’s been a treat to tell fantastical stories about trips overseas or tales of riches he doesn’t have. But all of that crumbles into nothing next to the thought of talking to Jess. 

He’s not going to be that easy for Pearce though. “You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

“Just go to Philly. See if it’s anything for you. If not, no harm, I’ll pull you out and get something else for you to work on.”

Adrian sighs, “Fine.” 

“By the way, Dolan, I watched that show _Barry_. I don’t think you should watch that show.”

Adrian laughs hysterically, “You’re fucking crazy. Don’t watch TV, do infiltrate the mob. Sure, man.”

**

Leo is intelligent, quiet and surprisingly open about his life, considering what he does for a living. He’s also quite attractive, and although Adrian wouldn’t have thought of it himself, he can see why some would say he resembles Novak Djokovic. 

They first meet at a restaurant Pearce included in his case briefing, along with photos of known mafia members and a list of their crimes. It makes the Codys look like precious babysitters in comparison. Adrian sits at the bar for five nights running, positioning himself so that Leo can see him from where he’s having dinner with the same people every night, and on the fifth night Leo comes over. Adrian’s impressed by the guy’s nerve, acting like he’s just there to order a drink, but obviously looking to strike up a conversation with Adrian. 

He and Pearce talked about Leo possibly not being into Adrian for a number of reasons. That’s why Adrian’s story is pretty loose and undetailed, so that he can mold it into something he thinks Leo will like. It works, because five months later, Leo refers to Adrian as his boyfriend in front of his boss, even if he uses the name Ryan which is what Adrian goes by these days. It’s surprisingly fast for Adrian who thought it would be lot harder to get close to someone who has mob ties. Not that Leo’s talked about any of that with Adrian, just shared hundreds of stories of growing up with older sisters and numerous cousins always coming to the house. It reminds him a little of the chaos that went on in the Cody house when they were all teenagers. 

As Ryan, Adrian has a flat that Leo likes to hang out in since he shares an apartment with two other guys, and a job at a sporting goods store. He sort of hates the job, but it gives him something to do that isn’t just waiting around for Leo to have time for him. His manager at the store keeps giving him shit shifts, and he spends many nights smoking up with two other employees that get screwed over as much as him, complaining and making fun of their boss. 

It’s a lot easier to have sex and pretend to be enamored with Leo than Adrian thought it would be, which is partly down to how selfless Leo is in bed, but it gets him no information on Leo’s work or introduced to others in the organization. Leo claims to be an assistant accountant at a firm who handles family-owned small businesses. But Pearce shows Adrian pictures of Leo with men Pearce identifies as being behind as many as twelve murders. It leaves Adrian more shaken than he cares to admit. 

After that he takes better care at hiding the tiny microphones and cameras that are strategically placed around his apartment, and the emergency stash of money and gun that are in a secret compartment in the bathroom. He hates the times he has to wear surveillance equipment on his person, but at least modern technology is his friend and most of the gadgets are hidden features on his Apple watch and iPhone. 

It takes nine months before Leo introduces him to people outside of the accountancy firm, not counting the group of friends he has from college that Pearce has done background checks on and dismissed as irrelevant to the case. Meeting Leo’s family is scary, and not only because half of them are involved in serious crime and wouldn’t hesitate to pull a gun on Adrian, but because Leo’s family is loud, has no respect for personal space and go on and on about Leo settling down. 

“Sorry about my family.” Leo says when they’re finally back at Adrian’s apartment after meeting the Grosso family for the first time. “You were a trooper.”

“You’ve spent the past week warning me about them.” Adrian chuckles, reaching out to give Leo a comforting squeeze of the shoulder, “It wasn’t that bad. Just, don’t expect me to do anything but watch TV on the sofa tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we could both use a break.” Leo agrees. “But, uh, Ryan? You know, about Mama saying I need to settle down?”

“Heh, she threw you under the bus there.” Adrian kicks off his shoes, it’s been raining and he doesn’t want to drag dirt into the apartment. He looks over when he realizes Leo’s paused by the door, “You coming in?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Adrian frowns, it’s not like Leo to be so hesitant. It’s one of the reasons Adrian likes him, and one of the things he likes in guys in general, being straightforward and not beating around the bush. He knows it’s because Deran was never that forthcoming about anything.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Adrian says, holding out his hand for Leo to take. Leo is a sucker for pet names, random touches and being treated like he’s something sweet and fragile, and Adrian abuses it as best he can. He figures another couple of months of ‘babe’ and hearteyes emojis will get Leo to trust him enough to get sloppy around him. Pearce is fine with the long-game approach.

“I’ve been a dick to you.” Leo finally says.

“O…kay.” Adrian says, taking his hand back without Leo ever having reached for it.

“I’ve been thinking about us, and I took you to my family because I wanted to see how you were with them.”

“Uh-huh.” Adrian starts panicking. Did he fuck up? Does anyone know he recorded audio from the whole event, is he about to be murdered?

“And how they were with you. They didn’t like that you’re Irish, but they seemed to get over that pretty quick when you said you like soccer.”

“I’m not that Irish. Honestly, it’s like five generations ago and my parents never cared about it.” Adrian says, because it’s the truth for both Adrian Dolan and Ryan O’Reily. “And you know I’ve been watching soccer like crazy just for this specific meeting. At your suggestion!” 

“Yeah, because I knew all my brother-in-laws would ask you about it. You did well, told you they’d like you if you said Inzaghi was your favorite player.”

“I don’t understand, you’ve been a dick to me about soccer?”

Leo finally steps out of his boots, “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about us. About what you mean to me, and where we’re at. I know you’ve wondered about my family, why I haven’t introduced you before. It’s because they’re a lot, and today was just a first taste really, if you want to really be with me, they’re gonna be a lot more involved than you might be comfortable with. Especially if we move in together.”

Adrian smiles, steps closer. Ryan O’Reily tragically lost both his parents at the age of fifteen, leaving a confused and angry teenage boy to fend for himself in the world. It’s why Ryan didn’t attend college and why he has a dumb job and a pretty cynical outlook on life. Ryan’s been a lot happier since Leo’s been around though, and has mentioned a number of times that he’d like to meet Leo’s family since he doesn’t have one of his own. Adrian must’ve been very convincing if Leo feels bad about not making it happen sooner. 

“Babe, you know I think family is important. And I’d rather have an annoying one, than no family.” Adrian puts his arms around Leo’s shoulders, tilts his head so the few inches he has on the other man don’t come into play. He’s noticed that Leo is conscious of their height difference sometimes.

“You’re gonna regret saying that. But, you think you want to? Live together with me?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Leo’s grin lights up the darkened hallway, “Good. Because I love you, Ryan, and want to be with you.”

Adrian’s smile feels more fake than ever. He hugs Leo close, puts his head on Leo’s shoulder, “I love you too.” 

**

Pearce is ecstatic over the news, and tells Adrian not to worry about where they end up living, Pearce will have people swing by and install surveillance equipment. Adrian can’t even remember a time when he cared about all the shit he said and did on camera. These days he doesn’t even bother turning them off when he and Leo fool around. Pearce also tells him to keep his head down, to not push for more information about what Leo actually does at work or at the restaurant he seemingly has client meetings at every week. 

Adrian likes living with someone again. Leo has a lot of late nights and odd hours that normal accountants shouldn’t have and Adrian usually has a meal or a drink waiting for him when he comes home. In return, Leo takes him out to fine restaurants and sports games, and buys him lots of gifts. Leo cares about clothes and fashion more than Adrian ever has, and soon the stuff that Adrian brought with him is in bags at the back of the wardrobe while fancy shirts and jackets and too tight jeans take up space in the front. Adrian’s a bit annoyed at that, he knows he’s a fake person and lying his ass off every day, but does he really have to dress like a different person too? But Leo also gets Adrian a cat to dote on, so it’s not all bad.

It takes about another year before Leo takes him with him to a supposed client dinner in the restaurant they met. Adrian wonders why at first and doesn’t wear any other surveillance equipment than his Apple watch in case he’ll be searched. But about five minutes in, it’s clear he’s there so that Leo and his boss can show the prospective client that they are open-minded and cater to all people, regardless of sexual orientation. Adrian feels a little used, and after putting on a good show for most of the evening, starts a fight with Leo that results in Leo sleeping on the couch. He’s not sure how or why, but a few days later, when Leo’s groveled enough, they’re back at the restaurant but now to meet Leo’s boss and some associates. Adrian recognizes one of them from a recent photo Pearce has emailed him, and thinks ‘ _finally we’re getting somewhere’_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You bet your bottom dollar I took the alias Ryan O'Reily (with one L) from _Oz_ , the single greatest TV show of all time. Any excuse to pay homage to an utter fucking legend!


	6. Pearce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter no one saw coming - and the chapter where past tense kicked my butt. I fucking tried, ok? I like Det Pearce way too fucking much, Gil Birmingham plays him as one cool cucumber. This was both a treat and a fucking brick wall to write, I hope I wrangled it into something enjoyable.

Dolan is a special case in many ways for Pearce. He is Pearce’s responsibility and guilty conscience at the same time, and a surprisingly good undercover agent. It’s that last part that’s the reason Pearce lets him do as he wants, even though he’d had no way of knowing how it would all pan out that night years ago when Dolan called him from LAX.

**

At the time Pearce hadn’t understood how Dolan could still be loyal to Cody, how he could still claim that Cody was an innocent man, when the hardened robber had sent Dolan away, clearly not ready to give up his criminal lifestyle. At first Pearce thought that a few weeks, maybe a couple of months, was all it would take for Dolan to give up his boyfriend. 

When Pearce finally accepted that Dolan wouldn’t sing, he had a different problem altogether, one that affected his career a lot more. For months he’d hidden a wanted drug smuggler, hadn’t brought him into court for his trial and hadn’t told a superior what had transpired. He’d even actively participated in the search of Cody’s house, looking for clues to Dolan’s whereabouts, when he was the one paying for Dolan’s motel room. If he told the brass that he had a fugitive under lock and key in a hotel in Portland, they’d fire his ass and bury all his cases, no matter what crimes he was investigating. Pearce wasn’t ready to take that risk, not with his retirement waiting for him in less than a decade. He had a lot of loose ends to tie up before he left the force, and Dolan became the way to manage it since the brass had stopped giving him any real resources, focusing on terrorism and border control instead. 

Deciding to put Dolan in the field, to use him not only as an informant but as an active agent, was something that made Pearce question his own sanity sometimes. But Dolan was adamant he could do it, and Pearce had nothing to lose, so he gave the kid a few easy jobs, buying drugs from street hustlers and approaching people in bars, getting him used to wearing different kinds of audio and visual surveillance equipment. Pearce listed him as a confidential informant under a different name so that the material could be used in court.

For the first year, Dolan wobbled between being self-destructive and professional, accepting the way Pearce had him move from town to town, giving him many learning opportunities regarding lying and coming up with stories that made people not suspect him of working for the cops. Through slow and careful work, Pearce managed to create a proper new identity for Dolan, which made it easier for him to set up bank accounts, create various online accounts to streaming services, email and even newspaper subscriptions. Not that he told Dolan about it, he just gave him a laptop that Pearce could control remotely, and a rundown of the various accounts and passwords he needed. 

Except for a few pitfalls of searching the internet for things related to his family and Oceanside in general, Dolan seemed to leave his old life behind as the years progressed. Pearce thought he sometimes could tell that Dolan was lonely and unhappy, but it was always clear that he was resigned to his fate. He’d lash out at Pearce, but accept whatever mission he was given and always report in time. It almost seemed like he had some pride in the dangerous work he performed for the country’s justice system without anyone knowing. 

Pearce never gave up on bringing the Codys down, though some of the allure admittedly disappeared when Smurf died. J made for an interesting player, and made a lot more mistakes than Smurf ever did, but he seemed to always luck out with other players coming in to take the fall for him, or the evidence mysteriously disappeared at the same time as dead bodies showed up. With the shift in the department’s prioritized cases, Pearce’s wish to take down the Cody family laid dormant for long periods, though he did keep an eye on them. It bothered him that he paid extra attention to Deran Cody, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Knowing what the supposedly honest barkeep was up to eased his mind with regards to Dolan. Not that he knew what he’d tell Dolan if Deran did die. 

He was certain that Deran was just as active in his family’s criminal activities as his brothers were, but away from that, Deran seemed to spend all his time at the bar, if he wasn’t surfing. The FBI academy students that Pearce would at times send to The Drop for exercises in shadowing marks, would rarely report back anything worthwhile. Even Deran’s hookups were less than interesting, rarely the same guy twice, and there never seemed to be a real boyfriend. He thought about that sometimes when he went to visit or call Dolan. 

**

Asking Dolan to start up a relationship with a low-level bookkeeper for the mafia feels like a low point for Pearce, but his retirement is creeping closer and certain things need to get done before he’s off the force. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to fully retire unless certain people are behind bars. He’s not sure the Cody boys still matter that much to him. They certainly don’t matter as much as the Fellinis do. 

Dolan is pissed off at him at the suggestion, and rightly so. But he also finally accepts the offer, once Pearce makes it clear Dolan could be an even bigger winner than Pearce if he gets real, solid evidence against the mob family.

For four years, Dolan becomes Ryan O’Reily, the loving boyfriend of Leo Grosso. He lives with him for three of those years, has a cat, and goes on vacations. Every two weeks, Dolan checks in with Pearce, most of the time with nothing noteworthy, but as time goes on there are more and more interesting tidbits, and Pearce is able to bring his superiors a solid base for a targeted investigation unit. Because of Leo’s position within the organization, Dolan doesn’t get information about any violent crimes carried out. But at some point Leo must start to trust Dolan implicitly, because he starts bringing work with him home, and Dolan can get pictures of financial papers and the odd screenshot. Besides, in an investigation as big as this, all information may be pertinent, everything from what brand of car they all drive to what they order in restaurants. 

At times Pearce wonders if Dolan is still on his side, or whether his allegiance has switched to Leo. From recordings, he can hear Dolan proclaiming his love for the other man, and when he sees them together on stakeouts that Dolan doesn’t know about, they look happy and besotted. But whenever Pearce voices these concerns to Dolan, which isn’t often, Dolan goes on the attack, yelling about how exhausting it is to pretend to be in love, to constantly maintain a fake world, to feel like Ryan is more real than Adrian. Pearce has stopped bringing up how rolling on Cody could make this all disappear for Dolan, for a number of reasons. One reason is that Dolan will get mad and stop feeding Pearce valuable information, another is that Dolan is so close to the Fellinis by now that it would ruin the entire investigation if Pearce pulls him out. None of the other five agents who are working the case fulltime even suspect that Dolan isn’t Ryan O’Reily, though they do know that he’s the one giving Pearce intel from time to time, thanks to a previous problem with the law. 

Pearce is on personal leave when things in the Fellini case take a turn as the head of the family is murdered in his own home. The agents in charge of the investigation decide they have to move at once, or a lot more murders are bound to follow, which means they won’t have people to charge with the crimes they can pin on them at present. He gets the message while in Mexico, and immediately heads for the nearest airport, leaving his daughter and son-in-law alone with the grandkids he was supposed to entertain for the duration of the trip.

It takes him three excruciating days before he’s in Philly with the rest of the operation. It takes him two hours of updates before he can get to the list of arrests made. Ryan O’Reily is one of the names on the list. Pearce feels stunned. There are a lot of things that could go wrong with Dolan being arrested, not only for Dolan but for Pearce too.

“You arrested O’Reily? Leo Grosso’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Agent Rosencrantz says, “we know he’s your C.I. but we found some shit in their apartment, and we can’t help but wonder if he knows more than he’s told you. And if he doesn’t, well, it’d look weird if we didn’t arrest him, huh?”

Pearce nods, “Yeah. Have you started interviews yet? I should probably do his.”

“Got him scheduled first thing in the morning.” 

**

Dolan gets up the minute Pearce walks into the interrogation room. 

“What the fuck?!”

“Calm down.” Pearce says, though he agrees that the anger is justified. “There are cameras monitoring our interview. Now, Mr. O’Reily, how long have you lived with Leo Grosso?”

Dolan’s eyes turn murderous, “Like you don’t fucking know how long.”

Pearce opens up the case folder he has with him halfway, angling it away from the cameras and tapping on it to get Dolan’s attention. Dolan looks down, and though he reads the message he doesn’t seem calmed by it. 

_ I was unaware of arrests being made.  
Your prints have only been searched in state databases, you’re safe.  
A few days, and you can get out, we will talk then.  
Keep your head down, and don’t talk._

Dolan leans back in his chair. “I don’t know what you think I’ve done, or what you think Leo’s done. He’s as innocent as I am. He’s an accountant for fuck’s sake. Do you know if anyone’s taken care of our cat? She’ll need to eat.”

“Your cat’s currently at the HQ for our operation, being well treated. I’d be more concerned with your own living arrangements. Now, tell me what you know of your boyfriend’s employer.”

**

It takes a whole week before Pearce can convince the group that they need to let those simply caught up in the arrest wave go, like unsuspecting partners or legit employees. Dolan is processed quickly, and Pearce is waiting for him at the apartment he shares with Grosso, along with the cat.

“You let me rot in there for over a week!” Dolan yells, “That’s not fucking cool! Do you know how fucking scared I was? That they’d know I was working for you? That someone would figure out I’m not Ryan?”

“I know it was a less than optimal situation–” Pearce tries to reply, but Dolan won’t let him. 

“Less than optimal? Are you serious? If I hadn’t had the Fellinis’ protection, I’d likely been shived! I kept thinking ‘Pearce will get me out, he wouldn’t do this to me’ but you didn’t fucking show up! They took my fucking prints, and I thought that’s it, I’m going to do life, but I won’t even get to do that, because the Fellinis will find out I’ve been lying to them all along and have me killed!”

“Adrian.” Pearce interrupts. 

Dolan laughs, “You think I react to that name? You’ve fucked me up! What the fuck am I gonna do now? If I leave, they’ll know I had something to do with this. If I stay, if Leo gets out, if they all get out… Everything changes. Everything. I’ll never get out.”

“Adrian!” Pearce finally snaps. “You need to calm down. Getting hysterical is not the way to handle this. We only have a limited time to figure this out, and we need to get rid of anything in this apartment that can link you and I together in a way that isn’t beneficial for either of us. Is the passport and money I gave you still safe?”

Dolan nods, “I think so. It’s been down in the shared laundry room in the basement since we moved here.”

“The laundry room?”

“You do not get to question my decisions right now.” Dolan snaps. The rest of the argument is put on pause when the cat jumps up on the kitchen table, meowing loudly. Dolan reaches for her, “I’m sorry, girl.”

**

Dolan ends up playing the caring, loyal boyfriend for six more months. No one within the Fellini organization suspects him of anything, least of all lying about his identity. They both decide it’s too risky for Dolan to keep handing over more intel, and minimize their interactions. Grosso’s family are half in jail, the other half upset and nervous. They keep Dolan near, and include him in various family commitments, like visiting their loved ones in jail. 

After half a year, Dolan pretends to hit a wall. He argues with Grosso over the phone and in person, says he can’t be involved with someone that accepts the kinds of crime the Fellinis will most likely be found guilty of, that he’s not the type of person who can handle having a partner in prison. Dolan begs forgiveness and understanding from Grosso’s family, but has little success. It’s not until a month later, when Leo’s lawyer says Leo will be found guilty of money laundering and tax crimes, that Leo finally stops promising that it’s all a big misunderstanding and that he’ll be out to start over with Ryan in no time. He gives Ryan his blessing to move on with his life, too young to be stuck waiting for someone for twelve years. With that blessing, the Grosso family seems to lose interest in Ryan’s business pretty quickly, and when the court procedure starts up Pearce moves Dolan to a secure location. The cat gets left in Philly.

**

A few months later, with Leo and the rest of his co-defendants behind bars in various federal prisons, Pearce offers Dolan a well-deserved break. 

“You seem good out there.” Pearce says as Dolan comes out of the water with a surfboard under his arm. 

Dolan snickers, “Won a trophy once, you know.” He stares out over the glittering ocean, “A long time ago.”

“Lot of things have happened since then.” Pearce allows.

“Yep.” Dolan drops the board onto the sand, grabs a towel. “What are you doing here? You said next week for a checkup. Fuck, it’s not Leo is it?”

“No, it’s not Leo. I told you, that situation is under control, and I’ll tell you immediately if not. I even made sure none of them are in the same prisons as any of the others you’ve turned on.”

Dolan laughs, “I ratted Jack out nearly eight years ago. Find it hard to believe he’s walking around with a picture of me in prison, asking if anyone’s seen me.”

“Yes, especially since he was murdered two years ago.”

“He was?” Dolan pauses at that, “What happened?”

“What always happens in prison? He looked at someone the wrong way.”

“Fuck.” Dolan swears. “I guess that’s my fault, somehow. I’m the one that put him there.”

“It’s no one’s fault but the guy who ganked him.” Pearce says, “Anyway, I’m in town with different news. What do you say we find somewhere to drink?”

Dolan looks at him cautiously, like he’s nervous the peace he’s found on Oahu is about to be disrupted in the worst of ways. He’s correct in assuming a disruption is coming, but it’s not a bad one, or at least Pearce doesn’t think he’ll think so. 

**

“I can go home?” Dolan asks, wide-eyed and shaking.

“There are no longer any warrants for your arrest. I’ve been working on the fugitive charge for a long time, and once that was down-prioritized, I could get the smuggling charge to disappear. Which in turn made the attorney’s office fine with dropping the fugitive charge too. Believe it or not, I pulled in a couple of favors on that, and owe a few myself.” Pearce explains. Ever since he asked Dolan to whore himself out to Grosso, and even before that, he’s been working on getting the charges dropped. Dolan will never be found innocent, but he’s no longer wanted by the American justice system.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Dolan sags down in his seat, like someone’s cut the strings holding him up. 

“There’s a couple of caveats.”

Dolan nods, but doesn’t speak. 

“No one can ever know what you’ve done the over the last years, _no one_. Not only could it compromise your safety, but it would compromise me, and it would compromise the investigations you’ve been an informant in. For instance, Leo might be released.”

Dolan shivers at that, pulls his hoodie closer around himself.

“You’ll have to see a therapist. I’m not sure where you’ll wanna go from here, but acclimatizing to being Adrian Dolan again, that can be a ride. Most agents that are undercover as long as you find it difficult to return to real life.”

“That’s fine.” Dolan says, reaching for his beer with shaking fingers. They’re sitting on the outside deck of a semi-decent beach shack, drinking beer and waiting for fish burgers. 

“Any illegal activities at all, and you’ll be sent to the slammer so hard it’ll crack a few ribs on you. And you should steer clear of any involvement with people that engage in illegal activities.”

Dolan snickers, “You saying I can’t see Deran?”

“Not if he’s not involved in criminal activities.”

Dolan braves a little smile at that, “Last ditch attempt at getting me to roll? Should’ve done that before you told me the charges were dropped.”

“Could still get yourself upped to first class on the flight home.” Pearce says back, knowing Dolan won’t take him up on the offer. “Do you even want to see him, after everything?”

Dolan looks out over the water, and Pearce finally notices how thin he’s become, and the rings under his eyes.

“I honestly have no fucking clue.” Dolan sighs, “When can I go back?”

“Anytime you want. We could go today if you’d like. Or not.” Pearce frowns suddenly, “You know, you don’t have to go back at all if you don’t want to. It’ll take some work, but I could probably set you up with a new identity here.”

“The last thing I need is another fucking name and story to keep track of. You know how nice these last months have been?” Dolan takes a sip of his beer. “Can I have a couple of days to think about it?”

“Sure. Take your time, kid.”

“I’m in my mid-thirties, I’m hardly a kid anymore.”

Pearce reaches for his own beer, “I’m sticking around for a while, so get used to it, kid.”

**

A week later they’re flying coach to LAX.


	7. Deran

J dies because of an allergic reaction around eight years after he killed Smurf. None of them even knew he was allergic to papaya. 

It’s oddly anticlimactic, they’ve all hated him in various ways since he showed up after Julia’s death but he’s still family and one of the few people they’ve ever let inside the inner circle. Pope is near catatonic at first, he was the one that found J on the kitchen floor at the compound, where J had taken to living again for some reason he didn’t share with the others. Pope was the one that found Angela dead on the same floor five years earlier, and Deran doesn’t like to think about all the death that Pope has witnessed in his days. It’s no wonder he’s a bit of a psycho at times. J was a psycho too, but he always had their backs when it mattered, even though he probably screwed them over all the time. Being a part of the Cody family means constantly being loyal and disloyal to the same people. 

Both Deran and Craig move to the big house for a while to keep an eye on Pope. It’s strange, living in what feels like the fifth or sixth version of the same house they all grew up in. Furniture and design elements from various decades mix in an eclectic and tasteless blend. There are traces of Angela, but most of all Smurf’s spirit still haunts the place in everything from drinking glasses to wallpaper. 

They’re at a loss as to what happens next. J took care of so much of the financial shit and paperwork that they hardly know what bank accounts and companies are out there for them to take control over. In some weird display of trust, or perhaps as a last laugh, J’s will names Deran as the keeper of his estate, and also names Deran, Craig, Nick and Lena as equal beneficiaries of any monetary assets in that estate. Pope barely reacts to the disrespectful gesture, just says he wants the bowling alley. Deran’s happy to give it to him, and Craig says he doesn’t give a shit either way.

There’s a lot Craig doesn’t care about these days, not since Renn finally got sick of his shit and took Nick and moved to LA. Deran only once made the mistake of pointing out that Craig ping-ponging between Renn and Frankie was bound to blow up, almost getting into a fistfight with Craig about it. Since then, Deran’s kept his mouth mostly shut, it’s not like he’s someone to give out relationship advice. He does wonder if Nick’s really got it better up there, with a mother who’s still a dealer, instead of with a dad who’s trying to leave crime behind him.

Dealing with J’s estate is so much more work than Deran wants, and it leaves him no time to participate in any new jobs with his brothers, not that any of them are in the mood for it. They’re getting older, and robberies and heists are young men’s games. Pope in particular has been showing much more interest in turning their front businesses completely legit, having muscled in on the bowling alley when J was still alive. J had seemed to take it in stride, almost acting friendly with Pope for the first time in years. 

J’s will means contact with Lena for the first time in nearly a decade, which Deran feels indifferent towards, but brings Pope out of the scarily silent and laser-focused place he’s been in since finding J’s body. She comes to visit, and Pope spends the week leading up to it cleaning the entire house from top to bottom, even hacking away at some rogue weed between the garden tiles and putting on a fresh coat of paint on the entry gate. Going over the house sparks something inside of Pope and he’s the one to suggest possibly selling it.

“Sell it? Are you serious?” Deran says, gobsmacked, at The Drop’s bar counter a few weeks after Lena’s visit. “We can do that?”

Pope gives him a look, “You’re the one in charge of all the legal stuff now, I guess you own the house. So you could sell it.”

“No, I mean, you want us to sell the house? I thought you liked living in that mausoleum.”

“I hate it.” Pope says. “Always have.”

Deran frowns, “So why have you stayed?”

Pope shrugs, “Why not?”

Deran decides to not question that, but turns to another factor, “I’m fine with selling it tomorrow and never seeing it again. But I’m guessing there’s a lot of shit buried there, we’d have to go through every room, man, not just the things we know about, but anywhere Smurf could’ve hidden something. Gotta get a fucking metal detector, man.”

“We have one in the garage.”

Deran considers Pope’s stance, the calmness that almost seems relaxed. “Okay, we’ll run it by Craig and take it from there.”

“I want the money from the sale to go to Lena.” Pope adds before Deran can walk away to serve some actual paying customers.

Deran pauses, “She can have your cut, I don’t care. But I need mine, and Craig does too. What the fuck, you’re the one talking about going legit. A bowling alley does not make that much money. If you really wanna lay off the jobs, you gotta start thinking long term with your money, man.”

“We’ll take it to a meeting and vote.”

“Yeah, ‘cos that always works for us.” Deran mutters as he fiddles with the tip jar some more. 

**

Pope calls a meeting at Deran’s house, mostly because Deran has a new barbecue grill on the back deck and Pope wants to try it out. They go surfing, the three of them together for the first time in a long time, and afterwards Pope makes them chili burgers on the grill. A couple of beers in, the good mood has soured as they yet again go around in circles about how to divide responsibilities now that J’s dead. The others both seem to think Deran will do great with taking care of their finances, but Deran strongly disagrees. 

“I have an accountant for the bar, and a computer program that does all the work for me, I just have to enter the numbers.” Deran argues. 

“So? Get the same shit for our shit.” Craig says, unhelpfully.

“Yeah, I’m gonna start keeping a digital record of all the things we steal and the money we make from it, real smart, Craig.” Deran shakes his head at the stupidity. 

“You’ve run the bar for ten years, and it’s still standing, you’ve never been in trouble with the IRS or anything over it. You’re the most levelheaded of us all, the two of us,” Pope waves between himself and Craig, “we’d make stupid decisions. And we still gotta decide if we wanna keep on pulling jobs.”

Deran sighs, “I’ve been thinking about that. If we stop with the jobs, we’d need to raise the rent for most of our tenants, ‘cos there’d be no money coming in to be laundered. I am not ever going to let someone else use our buildings for money laundering, that’s just gonna be messy and out of our control. But we could sell a few properties off, with the state they’re in real estate companies would probably like to swoop in and renovate them and hike up the rent. And the ones we keep, we do the same ourselves, but keep it normal, none of that glass walls and marble shit. Just basic units for a good price.”

“Where are you going with this?” Craig asks. 

“We’d need someone to be in charge of all that. I’ve got the bar, Pope’s got the bowling alley.”

Craig groans, “You want me to be a landlord, collecting rent and fixing leaks? Fuck that, I’ve done that enough in my life.”

Deran feels his frustration growing, “Would you just listen? Depending on the money we’d make from selling various assets we can put together a property company of our own, with fucking employees dealing with that.”

“Do we want to be legal?” Pope asks. It’s the same question they keep circling back to.

Craig gets up with an annoyed grunt, heads inside with a couple of empty beer bottles. Deran and Pope share a look and get up to follow him. 

“I’m just tired.” Craig says, “Of this, this shit. We keep talking about what we’ll do if we go legal, meanwhile half our assets we can’t get to because J neglected to mention them, and none of us are planning jobs! What about cash right now?”

“I just told you a plan for a legal way of making money! If we play our cards right, we can make just as much legally, and more than enough for us to live well on.”

Before Craig has a chance to retort there’s a knock on the door. They all pause, turning to stare at the door. 

“You’re both here.” Deran grumbles as he walks over, wondering who the hell has the balls to disturb him at his home, he gets no visitors except his brothers and the odd delivery. 

He freezes when Detective Pearce is revealed on the other side of the door, the same smug grin in place as every other time Deran’s met him. Fortunately Deran hasn’t laid eyes on him in years, not since the whole shitstorm with Adrian went down. Deran felt at the time that Pearce knew more about the circumstances than he let on, but nothing ever came of it, so he stopped being concerned over it. Maybe that was a lapse in judgement. 

“Cody.” Pearce greets him when Deran doesn’t speak. “Long time, no see.”

“I’d like to keep it that way.” Deran says, voice hard. 

“Oh now, I think you’ll like my visit this time.” Pearce’s smugness level rises as he speaks. 

“I doubt that.” Deran snorts. 

“I’m here to let you know I’m retiring.”

Deran leans against the door, “That’s great, here to beg for a contribution to your retirement fund?”

Pearce keeps on smiling like Deran’s barely worth his attention, which is rich since it was Pearce who came knocking on Deran’s door. 

“I’ve brought someone with me.” Pearce says. He nods at the side, and a second person steps into Deran’s line of sight. 

“Adrian.” Deran breathes the name.

Adrian smiles nervously, raises a hand, “Hey, Deran.”

“How – what…” Deran doesn’t know what to say, what to do or even think. It’s undoubtedly him, it’s really _him._ Adrian looks older, hardened. His hair is surprisingly long, and he’s wearing dark jeans with a simple t-shirt and hoodie. He also looks tired and apprehensive. Almost like he did those last few days before Deran sent him away. Before Deran broke both their hearts. 

Pope and Craig finally join the fray at that, both of them staring at Adrian. Deran wants to hide. He can’t be here for this, can’t see Pope and Craig tear Adrian apart. He also can’t take his eyes off the only man he’s ever loved, and can’t stop the utter joy from taking hold inside him. 

Pearce nods at the other Codys before gesturing at Adrian, “Dolan here has repaid his debt to the American people. And then some. He’s been an invaluable asset, but all good things… Don’t worry boys, he never rolled on you once. Loyalty was never a problem for him.”

Adrian breaks away from Deran’s gaze at that, giving Pearce a crooked smile, like they’re sharing an inside joke. “It was my only problem.”

Chuckling, Pearce barely acknowledges the comment, turning to Deran instead, “All the charges against him have been dropped. If he goes missing, I will pin it on you no matter what.”

Deran barely hears the threat, not thinking past the fact that Adrian’s back and that he’s not wanted by the feds. Adrian’s _here_.

“Well, I should get going. Nice to see you all.” Pearce puts a hand on Adrian’s shoulder, squeezes it hard. Adrian meets his eyes. After a long look, which ends when Adrian nods imperceptibly, Pearce walks away.

Adrian glances behind Deran, “Hey Craig, Pope.”

“Hi.” Craig says in wonder.

“Good to see you.” Pope adds.

“So, uh…” Adrian scratches his neck. 

Deran finally breaks, lunging for Adrian and pressing his arms around him, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

He keeps muttering as he starts to sob, heaving against Adrian’s neck. Craig and Pope quietly take their leave, Craig pushing the former lovers gently inside the house before closing the door behind them. 

“Please, I’m sorry, forgive me, please forgive me, please.” Deran begs of Adrian, clinging to him, fists grabbing his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him from slipping under water. He can’t stop the emotions from completely taking over him, happiness and wonderment, but also sadness that he’s kept this from them both for so long. He hasn’t experienced such intense feelings since he last saw Adrian. Thinking of that only makes Deran cry harder, breaking down in Adrian’s arms. 

Adrian holds him for a while, but Deran’s too absorbed in his own emotions to really notice how Adrian’s acting. When he’s finally calm enough to simply hug Adrian rather than squeeze him, Adrian softly moves him away. Deran doesn’t want to stop touching him, wants to reassure himself that Adrian really is here again, that he’s home. 

“It’s good to see you, Deran.” Adrian’s smile is small but warm. “Didn’t know if you’d be happy to see me.”

Deran grabs Adrian’s face, gives him an intense gaze and says, “I love you. I know you have every reason to hate me, and I am the worst thing that ever happened to you, but goddammit you ruined me too, but I love you, I never stopped, I thought about you all the fucking time, I went fucking crazy thinking about all the things that could’ve happened, I went to fucking Florida to look for you, and I just… I love you. Whatever you want, man. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Adrian mirrors Deran’s actions, takes Deran’s face in his own hands and then leans in, kissing him firmly. Deran groans against him, losing his breath immediately from the burst of elation that surges through him from the mere fact that he’s kissing Adrian again. All the misery of the last eight years vanish as he once again feels Adrian’s lips against his, his hands on his jaw and his body warm against his. 

Pulling back, Adrian gives Deran a tired smile, “Just wanted to do that before we deal with everything. I don’t know what I’m doing right now, to be honest. I just found out a week ago I could go home and I… I didn’t know if I wanted to, but I wanna see Jess, my family… and I wanted to see you. To know how you’re doing. Plus, I left a lot of my stuff here, I don’t know if you kept it but–” 

“I kept it.” Deran rushes to assure, “Gave some stuff to Jess, but most of it is in the spare room.”

“Have you talked to Jess at all, do you know how she is?” Adrian asks hurriedly. 

“She’s good, they’re all good, Charlie and Maisie too. Alan’s finally fucking gone.”

Adrian frowns, “Maisie?”

Deran grins, “Oh that’s right, you don’t know about her, yeah, you’ve got a fucking niece, man. She’s like, six maybe?”

“Jess had another kid?” Adrian asks, moving away. He leans against the desk that’s still in the same place as when he was last in the apartment. 

Deran doesn’t like the lost look on Adrian’s face, wants to take it away. “I’ve got a picture somewhere, hang on.”

His contact with Jess has been sporadic but cordial in the past years. True to his word, Deran sent rent money every month, even when Alan was back for an awful year, Deran telling Jess not to tell Alan about it and save the money for herself. When Alan got too drunk one last time and hit someone with his car on the way home from being with his current mistress, Jess finally ended things for good.She called Deran when Alan came round the house after she’d thrown him out, kicking up a storm and threatening to take the kids away from her. Deran felt good about it, getting to be violent and aggressive while protecting someone. He spent the following nights driving past her house just to ease his own mind.

Every now and then, they touch base about Adrian, giving each other photos or letters to deliver to the man in question in case they ever got the chance to. It’s a bunch of those photos that Deran now hands over to Adrian.

“Oh wow.” Adrian says as he looks at the photos, “She’s awesome.”

“Her name’s Maisie Adriana.”

Adrian looks up, “What?”

Deran nods, smiles, “You should talk to your sister about that.”

“Yeah.” Adrian goes through the photos quietly but with a smile on his lips. There’s a shine in his eyes too, and before long tears are spilling over and he’s crying openly.

“No, come on,” Deran hurries to embrace him, more tenderly now that the first desperation is gone. “It’s good now, you’re home.”

That just makes Adrian cry harder, loud grunts ripping from his chest, his whole body shaking. Deran doesn’t know what to do, hasn’t had to deal with this kind of thing for so long that he’s forgotten how. But then, he can’t remember Adrian ever being like this with him, so openly vulnerable and messed up. Deran so badly wants to ask where he’s been all this time.

“We could go to Jess now, if you want…?” Deran suggests, even though he really just wants to stay at home with the only person who ever made the house a home. He doesn’t care if they talk, say nothing or just fucking hold each other, all he knows is he never wants to let Adrian out of his sight again. 

“Not yet.” Adrian says, sounding all choked up. “Pearce said we should come here first so he could talk to you about the charges, and honestly, meeting you is exhausting enough. I gotta… gotta get my head around this first.”

“Okay.” Deran runs his finger down Adrian’s cheek, “That’s fine. Are you hungry, you want something to eat?”

Adrian laughs, “I guess some things never change, you still wanna see me eat.”

Deran snorts, “Yeah, I’m a real foodie. Pearce, huh?”

“Yeah.” Adrian sighs. “I can’t talk about it. But you should probably know he’s gonna be checking in every now and then. And I have to see a therapist.”

“Why? Has something happened to you? Is that why you’re back in the States?”

“No, nothing happened to me, not really, nothing bad. Well.” Adrian snorts, “Depends on how you look at it. Look, you made your choice back then, and I made mine. It took a long time to come to terms with, and I still might not have. But I made the best of a shitty situation, even when that meant I was pretty fucked up during long periods of time. I can’t talk to you about it, but know that it hasn’t been easy.”

“Fuck, I never thought it was,” Deran says, resting his forehead against Adrian’s, “I was so worried about you, for so fucking long. I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry I’m a fucking coward. I should’ve chosen you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Adrian agrees. 

“Can you… are you staying?” Deran asks, suddenly struck dumb with fear.

Adrian shrugs, “Didn’t really have a plan other than to knock on the door and see what happened.”

“All your stuff’s here, like I said. You clothes, boards, your phone.”

“You kept my phone?” Adrian asks, a little confused. 

“Yeah, uh…” Deran decides to be honest, “I cloned it so I could access it.”

“Right…” 

“I’d look at your photos when I missed you so much I couldn’t breathe and I thought about what a massive fucking mistake my entire life is.” Deran says quietly, like a confession. 

“All the time then.” Adrian says.

Deran laughs, he loves that Adrian still has his sense of humor, making fun of Deran even when neither of them know where they have each other. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“You went to Florida, huh? I guess that means Tim did tell you.” Adrian says then, apropos of nothing. 

“Yeah!” Deran pulls back, finger in the air, “I fucking knew it! At first I didn’t believe him ‘cos you were supposed to be in Bali, but I went out there and showed pictures of you, they said your name was Shane. Fucking threw me for a loop.”

Adrian laughs, “I hope you didn’t scare ‘em.”

Deran just scratches his hair at that, making Adrian laugh again. Deran loves the sound of Adrian’s laughter, thought he’d never hear it again, and it makes him so goddamn happy. Everything about Adrian makes him happy, from the fact that he’s home, that he’s talking to Deran at all, and that he doesn’t seem to be running for the hills. 

“I like your hair.” Adrian says, reaching out to pull on the short strands.

“Yeah? Got it done a couple of weeks back. My new bartender thinks she’s a hair stylist and she went on about getting to do something with my hair, so I just did it to shut her up, you know?” Deran explains. 

“You still got the bar?”

Deran nods, “Ten years and running. Craig had an anniversary party and everything. Oh, J’s dead.”

Adrian startles, “Shit, he is? How?”

“Allergy.”

“Allergy?” Adrian frowns.

Deran shrugs, “Papaya. It was only a couple of months ago, we’re still figuring things out, you know, what to do.”

Adrian deflates at that, looking away, “I can’t associate with criminals. Pearce’s orders. So tell me now and I’ll go.”

“Nah, man, nothing right now. We’re… talking about things.” Deran decides to go with a vague explanation. Hopefully they can talk more about details later. “Uh, what other orders are there?”

“Not many. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Adrian says tiredly.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Adrian blinks, “Can I see my stuff?”

“Sure.” Deran stops Adrian before he can walk past. He makes sure Adrian knows what’s going to happen before he kisses him again. He puts his hands on Adrian’s waist, tries to remember if his body feels like the last time he held him. He can only remember all the aborted touches in the weeks near the end. He hopes that with every kiss, he’ll start to forget that horrible part of his life. 


	8. Adrian

The first day with Deran is like a boxing match underwater. Adrian feels like he’s drowning, pummeled by the torrent and taking punches all over his body. It reminds him of the time Deran did actually beat him to a bloody pulp. It feels like another lifetime. 

Deran’s kept an unexpected amount of Adrian’s stuff, Adrian isn’t surprised at all to hear that Craig calls the room Deran’s shrine to Adrian. His boards are in there, clothes he can’t remember ever wearing, towels, important papers, souvenirs and DVD’s. Adrian spots some of his stuff still mixed with Deran’s in other parts of the house. Seeing that Deran has worked hard to remember him means a lot to Adrian, but he’s not sure if it’s enough.

After a few hours of stilted talk, a shower for Adrian and then a nap, Adrian says he wants to see Jess. 

“I’ll drive you.” Deran says.

“It’s okay, I can walk. It’s not that far.”

“Adrian, please. Let me drive you.”

Adrian sees the fear in Deran’s eyes, doesn’t know if he’s scared Adrian will disappear, or that something will happen to him. “Fine.”

Once they get to Jess’ place, Deran stays in the car, “Just come out when you’re ready, I don’t mind if it takes a couple of hours. I got my tablet, I can do work shit from here.”

Adrian doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods and gets out. Walking up to the house he feels nauseous, but so happy. When Jess opens the door she’s yelling at her kids to stop fighting and then she squeaks and throws her arms around Adrian and cries. He does the same. It seems to be the thing to do today. They talk for hours, and it feels so good, so different from meeting Deran again. Charlie and Maisie keep their distance at first, but are soon showing their uncle their toys and talking about their surfing lessons. 

“I guess you should take over the lessons, huh?” Jess smiles, “I mean, now that you’re back.”

Adrian hears the question she doesn’t ask, “Yeah, count me in. I’m back for good, Jess. It’s just gonna take a while to get adjusted, but I’m back. I wasn’t sure before, but I am now.”

“Because of him?” Jess asks, nodding at the window, through which the same old Scout can be seen. 

“Yeah.” Adrian looks over at Maisie, who’s preparing some horse show with her toys. “He’s… I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. But he’s a part of my life. When I saw him, things felt right. But we’ve hurt each other so much, and I’m not the same person I was. I don’t know.”

Jess sighs, “You know I hate him.”

Adrian snorts.

“But he’s been good to me and the kids, when he could’ve ignored us totally. He’s helped us out, because of you.” Jess wrings her hands, like she finds it hard to talk well of Deran. “From what I can tell, he’s been fucked up about sending you away. That’s something. But he did send you away. Don’t forget that.”

“Believe me, I never have and I never will.”

Adrian walks out to the car a little while later and stands by the driver’s side. “I’m gonna stay here.”

Deran frowns, “What does that mean?”

“I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know Jess, and I wanna know her kids. I can’t deal with you being mad at me about it, so just accept it, okay? I need to get my head on straight. I’m not leaving town on you, or saying we can’t talk or see each other. I just need time.”

Deran’s face falls, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. He drops the tablet to the side, reaches for Adrian instead, “We can, I mean, it’s still your home too.”

Adrian holds back tears, “Maybe it can be, if you just let me work things out. I promise we’ll talk.”

Deran lets him go reluctantly. “I’ll come back with some clothes and shit for you.”

**

Being back in Oceanside is mindboggling. The town mostly looks the same, but there’s a couple of new buildings and places that have been completely renovated or demolished. Strangest of all is seeing people he hasn’t seen in years, the friends and acquaintances that stop him in the street or start to blow up his old phone once word spreads that he’s back.

Some days he stays in, overwhelmed with emotions. Other days he heads down the beach and talks for hours with anyone he recognizes. Deran starts showing up at the beach around the same time Adrian’s there, and Adrian suspects he’s got a chain of snitches working for him, but surfing and Deran has always been a good combination so Adrian doesn’t mind. 

True to his word, he keeps communications open with Deran, but it’s awkward and trying. Adrian can’t say anything about what he’s been up to the last couple of years, and Deran shouldn’t. It doesn’t feel like Deran’s holding back because he’s afraid Adrian will tell Pearce, but more because he’s worried it will fuck with Adrian’s orders to not associate with criminals.

Instead they talk about everything from J’s death to the tequila prices at Deran’s bar to the fucking weather. It’s everything they didn’t use to talk about before, when there was always the option of fucking or lighting up instead. They’d talk surfing, skating and sex and not much else, acting like dumb young assholes long after they should’ve grown up. It’s cathartic, and something Adrian brings up with his therapist. She doesn’t know the full story behind why he’s there, just that he’s adapting to being able to live his real life again. Even with the censorship and half-truths, she’s helps Adrian make sense of a lot of confusing thoughts and feelings.

Deran loves it when Adrian comes by The Drop, that much is obvious. He drops everything and just hovers around Adrian, drinks quietly with him or tangentially joins whatever conversation Adrian’s having with someone else. Once or twice Adrian notices that someone’s trying to flirt with Deran, but Deran doesn’t even seem aware someone’s there talking to him other than Adrian. 

It’s about two months after he comes back before they first fuck in their old bed. Adrian comes over because he wants to spend time with Deran, as simple as that. No matter the bullshit behind them, he’s come to realize that spending time with Deran makes him feel good, and he needs a lot more of that in his life. 

Deran blows him and it’s so good, feeling that mouth on him again, and digging his hands into his hair. Deran stops him from returning the favor, just runs his fingers over every inch of Adrian’s body until he’s ready to go again and then fucks him hard and fast into the mattress.

Adrian moves back in with Deran shortly after that. Jess isn’t pleased but she mostly bites her tongue, obviously reluctant to start a fight now that she has Adrian back in Oceanside. He still comes over to see her several times a week, keeping up with his duties as halftime nanny to the kids and fulltime awesome surfer uncle. He doesn’t have a job, and doesn’t expect to have one for a long time. He figures he’ll ask around the surf shops for work and hope for the best when he finally feels up to it. Deran doesn’t push him at all. Besides, the money Pearce has supplied him with over the years won’t be gone for a little while yet. 

“You wanna come to the house with me?” Deran asks one morning, both of them tired after a long night at The Drop with more bar fights than Deran claims have happened in the past year. 

“…House?” Adrian yawns. 

Deran rolls over on the bed, puts his head on Adrian’s chest. “Smurf’s.”

They’ve avoided the subject of Smurf as much as they can. It’s touchy for the both of them. Her threats and demands were the reason behind Deran’s actions. Adrian hesitates to answer. He doesn’t know if he wants to go back there. 

“We’re selling it.” Deran reveals. “None of us like it there. It needs so much upkeep it’s not even funny. It’s costing us money, basically.”

“Really?” Adrian asks, hand automatically going to Deran’s hair. “I thought Pope lived there.”

Deran snorts, “He bought the place next to Craig’s last week.”

Adrian laughs, “Oh man, you guys really are so fucked up.”

“Craig went ballistic when he found out.” Deran laughs too, “I had to hold him back.”

Adrian snorts at the mental image. 

“Pope wants us to have a last meal there, with Lena.” Deran hesitates. “We’ve cleared the place of… incriminating objects.”

Adrian raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not supposed to associate with criminals.” Deran says, contritely.

Adrian sits up, dislodging Deran from his chest, “How’s that going?”

“We’re discussing things.” Deran allows. 

**

Being at the compound is less exhausting than Adrian thought it would be. It doesn’t invoke any type of feeling in him. Not for himself anyway, but he does feel sad and angry at the abuse and misery Deran suffered inside of the house. Adrian’s not sad at all that the Codys are finally saying goodbye to their mother’s shadow. 

He’s been with Pope and Craig a couple of times since coming back, and even though it feels like they’ve tried to welcome him back with open arms, Adrian’s still uneasy around them. Do they hate him? Do they want to kill him? Are they badmouthing him to Deran behind his back? Adrian used to trust Craig, but that confidence is gone. He wonders what’ll happen if he and Deran end up not getting back together. 

As far as Adrian’s concerned, he and Deran are not back in a relationship just because they’re screwing again, or because he moved back into the house. There are days when they barely speak, when Adrian sleeps all day and Deran’s at the bar or the bowling alley, or even with the lawyer, trying to work out the remaining paperwork regarding J’s will. Half the conversations they do have end in stilted silences or aborted sentences. They’re still struggling with how to deal with the eight years spent apart, and most of all, Deran’s choice that fateful night. Sometimes, especially if he’s had a few drinks, Deran will beg for forgiveness into Adrian’s skin, will cling to him and cry himself to sleep. Sometimes Adrian forgives him, and other times he can’t stand Deran’s hands on his body.

Adrian knows he’s sending mixed signals to Deran, but a part of him reckons it’s only fair after Deran swinging back and forth for most of their younger years. Adrian used to get whiplash from Deran’s leaps from attentive lover to abusive asshole.

Deran’s quiet throughout preparing dinner with Pope, just does what he’s asked to without complaining, which really isn’t his style. Adrian shares a look with Pope at one point, but neither of them bring it up. 

It’s kind of a trip to see Lena again. She’s a lot older and looks completely different than Adrian remembers. From what Deran’s said, she’s been out of the Codys’ lives longer than Adrian has.

Pope pulls out a chair for Lena as he asks, “Do you remember Adrian? I know he was around a couple of times when you were little.”

“No, sorry. You were uncle Deran’s boyfriend, right?” Lena says, before her eyes widen and she looks at Deran. 

“Yeah,” Adrian decides to ease her worry, “It was a long time ago, I don’t expect you to remember.”

She smiles at him, “Okay.”

Pope asks an astonishing amount of questions of Lena, as talkative as Adrian has ever known him to be. When Lena says she has an assignment at school to write about her family, Pope goes off on a long monologue about her mother Cath. Adrian doesn’t miss the nervous glances between Deran and Craig.

Deran drives them homewards after dinner, but takes a left instead of a right and drives them to the pier where Adrian told him he was the worst thing that ever happened to him. 

Adrian feels fingernails clawing at his throat, “What are we doing here, Deran?” 

“For years, I’ve wished for a do-over. I’ve wished that I chose you. I’ve dreamt about making you stay, about coming with you, about running after you. Fuck, I’ve wished I had the balls to jump in the water and not come back up.” Deran says, staring out at the dark water. 

“Don’t say shit like that.” Adrian protests, but there’s no real heat in his words.

“We keep… I want… I just want things to be okay.”

“That’s what you always say.” Adrian points out. “But you never wanna do the work.”

“I wanna do the work! I’ve been trying to do the work!” Deran exclaims. “I’m fucking here, trying everything to get you to notice me, to pick me, but I feel like I’m alone in this sometimes!”

Adrian scoffs, “Want me to pick you? Welcome to the fucking club. I spent fucking years going over that last night, all the months before it. I know I was the one that fucked up, working with Jack, but there were other ways to handle it, you were the one that decided we should skip the country and you were the one who flaked on me in the end. I don’t think you even understand how much damage you’ve done to me.”

Deran’s jaw works, but he doesn’t say anything. After a couple of minutes, he starts the car and drives them home. Nothing gets resolved that night. 

**

Adrian sits in one of the deck chairs facing the beach, Pearce in the one next to him. 

“Leo was murdered last week. Figured you’d wanna know.” Pearce says. 

“Fuck.” Adrian puts his head in his hands. 

“The wiseguys got into it with the Aryans. There’s been bad blood simmering, and last week a couple of deaths happened on both sides. I don’t know much more, but I could find out if you want me to.”

“Nah.” Adrian says, “The less I know the better.”

“The reason he’s dead is because of what happens in prison, and that has nothing to do with you.” Pearce says. 

“You say that like you care about me, but you used to be okay with sending me to the slammer.” Adrian turns his head, looks at Pearce. 

Pearce looks back at him, until a sound from inside alerts them to Deran’s presence. 

“Hello.” Deran says, stepping out on the deck. He gives Pearce a cold stare. 

“I guess that’s my cue.” Pearce gets up, puts on his shades. “Take care, Dolan. Cody.”

Deran follows him with hard eyes as he leaves by the side door. 

“What the fuck was he doing at our house?” Deran asks, stepping in front of Adrian, looking down at him. “Who’s Leo?”

“You heard that?” Adrian asks, a cold tendril running through him. 

“Yeah.”

Adrian looks out over the ocean. “He’s someone I used to work with. Dead now.”

Deran steps into Adrian’s line of sight, like he wants to push it, like he wants a fight. 

Crossing his arms and looking back defiantly, Adrian says, “I told you when I first came back, Pearce is gonna show up every so often. If you want me here, you’re just gonna have to accept it.”

Deran doesn’t look pleased at all, but he sighs, “I’m sorry your friend died.”

“Yeah.” Adrian thinks of Leo’s smile and the way he would put on an exaggerated Italian accent to tell rude jokes. Adrian never loved him, but he did like him. “I am too.”


	9. Deran

Deran comes home with a plan. He’s been thinking a lot about things, and he thinks he finally has a solution. He’s not sure Adrian will go for it, but then Deran is the one who’s put in the most work over the last year, trying to get their relationship back on course. Being with Adrian again has given Deran so much energy, but has also broken his heart a hundred times over. Every time Adrian kisses him, he feels like taking on the world. But when Adrian pulls away or spends the night at Jess’, Deran feels like he might as well drink himself blind. 

Adrian’s not home yet when Deran shows up at the house, which works fine for him. He could use a shower and some more time to organize his thoughts. 

Deran’s in the shower, putting shampoo in his hair when Adrian calls out his name. Deran grins. 

“Shower!”

Adrian’s in the bathroom a mere minute later, “Got room for one more? I have Maisie’s snot all over me.”

“Yeah, that’s sexy.” Deran says, watching as Adrian undresses. He’s been working out again, and eating more because of it. It means he’s put on some weight and he looks good for his age. Deran really should start working out again. Long gone are the days of the six-pack. 

Adrian steps inside the shower stall, “Let me help.” 

Deran tilts his head back, and not a moment after Adrian’s gotten the last of the shampoo out of his hair, does he have a hand around his cock. Deran fucks into Adrian’s palm, feeling himself harden. 

“Missed you.” Adrian says, kissing Deran’s neck. “Missed what we did last night.”

“Yeah.” Deran liked last night too. 

“Wanna rim you again tonight.”

“Sure.” Deran raises an arm up, winds it around Adrian’s head. “Keep doing that.”

“Gonna open you up, fuck you with my tongue ‘til you beg.”

“Fuck.” Deran’s embarrassed that he’s already close.

“All I’ve been thinking ‘bout, tasting you, fucking you, I wanna see you naked all the time, your red hole waiting for me.”

“Adrian…”

“Come for me, Deran.” Adrian licks a stripe up Deran’s throat, “Come.”

Twenty minutes later they’re somewhat dressed, both of them comfortable enough around each other to forego a shirt or pants after months of being fully clothed. 

“You’ve never said anything about that tattoo.” Adrian says, trailing a hand down Deran’s left side.

“You haven’t asked.” Deran says, feeling just a tad insecure. 

“It’s a surfboard with an ‘A’ on it. I mean…” Adrian trails off. 

“It’s for you. Obviously. Got it the first year after…” Deran looks away, but is heartened when Adrian puts his hand on Deran’s jaw, pulling him back. Adrian leans in, kisses him soft and sweet. 

“I think it looks cool.” Adrian says when he pulls back. “Now I can finally start paying attention to it in bed.”

Deran snorts, sometimes Adrian only thinks about sex. 

“I got it because, you know, of what happened. Because I’ll never love anyone else but you. I knew when I watched you walk away that that part of my life was over. If I can’t be with you, I’m not gonna be with anyone else. But that’s fine, if you wanna leave me, then do.” He licks his lips, “But I wanna be with you, and I wanna do this right, like I’ve been saying this whole time. So I think we should leave town.”

Adrian freezes, “Excuse me?”

“Listen, hear me out.” Deran holds up his hands, knowing he might set Adrian off. They probably should’ve put on more clothes for this. “I know you’re back, and you say you want to be here, but you’re struggling, man, with a lot. I think part of it is that we’re here, in this house where all this shit between us happened.”

“So you wanna move?” Adrian asks, reaching for a pair of sweatpants. 

“Being somewhere else might do you good. And, well… You know we decided to not do jobs anymore.” Deran continues, referring to the decision he and his brothers voted on three weeks ago when they finally handed over the keys to Smurf’s dream house to the buyer. “A problem with that is that others might not like that decision. Or try to make a move on us as a sign of power. We’re known in the community, it’s no secret where we live, or where the bar is. We’ve pissed off a lot of people over the years. Pulling out isn’t that easy.”

“Right, so this isn’t about me, or us, at all. It’s about you. Got it.” Adrian stalks out of the bedroom.

“No, Adrian!” Deran calls after him. He grabs a t-shirt from the bed and heads after him, “Adrian, listen. I’ve been thinking for a long time that you’re not comfortable here. It’s so fucking obvious. You wanna talk about us? That’s rich considering you won’t even acknowledge there is an ‘us’. What are we doing here, Adrian? We’re just hurting each other again.”

Adrian slams the fridge door closed where he had it open, resting his hands on the kitchen counter. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I know I’m not fair. You wanna know why? Because I’m trying to reach a place where I can be in love with you and not hate myself for it.”

Deran feels the words like a punch to the gut. He knows Adrian’s feelings for him are complicated, and he’s tried to respect that over the past year, but it’s only got them so far. Deran already feels like he’s talked so much more than he’s ever done, that he’s been communicative in a way that’s so far outside of his comfort zone that Adrian should show a little more appreciation, but apparently he’s not gotten it right, because they still hurt each other the most when they use their words. 

“Sorry, that was a shitty thing to say.” Adrian turns around, slumping back against the counter. “But that’s why I’m still here, D. Because I want to make it work. I don’t know what the last eight years of my life was even for, if I can’t make this work between us.”

“That’s why we should move.” Deran says. “You need to get away from this place, from everything that happened. I do too. A fresh start, all that shit. We’ll buy a house somewhere else, start a life without people knowing who the fuck we are.”

Adrian sighs heavily, “What about the bar?”

“I’ll leave it with Pope, or Craig. Heck, I’ll even sell it. It’s just a bar, and it’s driven me crazy for a long time.” Deran says. “It’s about time I try something else. I was thinking more of a restaurant, maybe a beach shack.”

“Beach?”

“Yeah, we gotta move somewhere we can surf.” Deran figures Adrian’s calm enough for Deran to come closer, so he joins him at the kitchen counter, looking out over their messy room and the stormy ocean outside. 

“I liked Hawaii, that’s where I was before coming back here. It was peaceful there, at least in my head.” Adrian says thoughtfully.

“Hawaii. Sure, it’s still in the States so it should be easier with bank accounts, house buying, all the paperwork.” 

“I’m not saying yes, but I’ll think about it. I gotta talk to Jess.” 

Deran deflates at that, he knows Jess will campaign for Adrian to stay. But if there’s one thing he’s learned over the last year, it’s that he really needs to keep quiet about the Dolan sibling bond. After all, he can’t expect Adrian to accept how dependent he is on his brothers, if Deran can’t accept the way Adrian is with his sister. 

**

Surprisingly, Jess gives her blessing to Adrian leaving. Deran can’t believe it when Adrian tells him about the conversation he had with his sister, how she hates him leaving town again, but admitting that it’s probably the best thing for Adrian’s mental health. At least this time they can keep in touch daily and hopefully visit a lot. The next time Deran hangs out at the beach with the Dolan family, he doesn’t mind Maisie spending half an hour brushing his hair, which is close to his shoulders again. 

They start looking at realty, researching which island is best suited to their needs and wants, and Deran loves the positive energy that envelopes their house. Adrian spends the days he doesn’t fill in at the surf shop on the internet, looking at everything from house and flight prices to where the best waves are. He’ll stop by The Drop in the evenings, tell Deran about his latest ideas and generally be in a brighter, happier mood than he’s been in for a long time. To Deran, it feels like leaving is already doing them good.

A big difference from the last time they talked about leaving Oceanside is that they’re not doing it in secret, and that they’re preparing for a normal life, not one on the run. Pearce is apparently okay with the move, although Adrian says he’ll still be in touch with him, and he’ll have to find a new therapist. Deran often wonders what exactly happened to Adrian that he still needs to talk to someone. Adrian’s told him extremely little, just that he never left the States. When Deran asks about the postcard, Adrian laughs and mutters ‘ _so the motherfucker did send it_ ’ which makes no sense to Deran.

Deran’s sitting in his office at The Drop, doing boring paperwork while waiting for Adrian to show up when Craig and Pope burst in instead. “Oh fuck, you’re both here. This can’t be good.”

Pope takes up position by the door, arms crossed and eyes as focused as always. Craig folds down on the shitty sofa. 

“Me and big brother have been talking.” Craig starts. 

“Yeah? Now I know it’s not good.” Deran deadpans, patting down his pockets.

“Shut up.” Craig tosses a cigarette pack in the general direction of Deran. “’Bout you moving with Adrian.”

Deran feels himself tense, “It’s happening, whether you like it or not. We already talked about this, you’re taking the bar.”

“Nah, man, we’re cool with it. You gotta do what you gotta do. But like you said, us still walking around here, could give people ideas. You know, just ‘cos we’re out of the game doesn’t mean there’s still not people that wanna see us gone for good.”

“We’re moving to Hawaii with you.” Pope cuts to the chase. 

“I was getting there!” Craig protests. 

“The fuck you are.” Deran says lowly, pausing with the lighter next to the cigarette he’d meant to smoke.

“Come on,” Craig turns back to Deran, “Me and Pope have done a lot more shit in the last years than you have. There’s a lot more people that wanna see us hurt.”

“Renn being one of them. Frankie too.” Deran points out, aiming to hurt. 

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.” Craig flips him off.

“Anytime, bro.” Deran leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, cigarette temporarily forgotten. “I’m serious, you can’t move with us. It’s about me and Adrian getting a fresh start. He’s my family too, and I need to make him happy. If I can’t do that… then I don’t really care.”

“We wouldn’t move with you.” Pope says. “We’d get our own house.”

“Live with you?” Craig turns an incredulous look on Pope, “Hell no, it’s bad enough living next to you.”

“You’d drown in your own filth if it wasn’t for me.” Pope retorts.

Craig grins at Deran, “He cleans my house for free. Best housekeeper I ever had.”

“It’s clear you’ve got a nice show going here, it’d be a shame for it to end.” Deran mutters. “You’re not fucking moving with us. You have the bowling alley, the property company.”

“So? You’ve got the bar, and you’re still moving.”

Deran shakes his head, refusing to accept what he’s hearing, “The bar is mine. The other stuff is ours together. You can’t just decide to sell it, or leave it.”

Craig gets up, flicking some hair out of his face, “So what, you’re gonna block us from doing shit with our joint companies because you want a life without us?”

“No!” Deran finally lights the cigarette, “That’s not what this is about. Fuck, I chose you once, you know. Over him. You know how much that fucked me up? I need to be with him now, and I need to be something good in his life. That’s it.”

Craig and Pope are quiet at that, the confession of love much more honest and heartfelt than any of the things they usually tell each other.

“That’s fine, Deran.” Pope says, surprisingly gently. “You deserve to be happy, to get away from all this. But we need something new too, or we’ll fuck up, and you’re gonna hate yourself for not being here. You know it’s true. It’s why you stayed the last time.”

Deran lets out a long puff of smoke. “What about Nick?”

Craig rubs his face, moves to fiddle with his necklaces. He doesn’t like talking about Nick when he’s sober. “Renn’s not let me see him in months.”

“You’re just gonna give up? Be like our dads?” Deran goads, seeing an opening.

“No!” Craig argues, “I’m not giving up! I’m gonna be a father to him, I _am_ a father to him! I fucking call and FaceTime all the time!”

“But you’re not there for him in person.” Deran points out.

“You’re just trying to make me mad. You know Pope’s right, without you here to stop us, we’re gonna screw up, agree to a job with an outsider, piss the money away. Then what kind of father will I be to Nick? I need to keep my shit together for him, man.”

A text alerts Deran to Adrian being on his way, “Fuck, fine, we’re not done talking about this. Don’t fucking mention this to Adrian.”

Deran stalks out of the office but doesn’t miss the pleased glance Craig and Pope share. He hates them so much. 

**

When they finally find a house that looks promising, they decide to go for it. If it’s a shit place without running water or working heat, they’ll deal with that later. Deran doesn’t think it’ll be too shitty though, not with the fancy real estate agent they used, and the price of the house. It’s on Oahu, in a small town doesn’t have a big hotel but does have a popular beach and touristy bungalows for rent. After signing the dotted line, they have two months before the house is theirs, and Adrian begins packing immediately, sometimes getting Charlie and Maisie to help him when he babysits. They’re sad he’s moving away, but seem to enjoy going through his and Deran’s stuff.

Deran finds Adrian folding yet another moving box as he comes home one day from the grocery store.

“Hey, didn’t think you’d be back ‘til later.” Adrian tilts his head up with a pleased smile. 

Deran loves how Adrian looks happier these days, the little smiles lighting up his eyes and face. “You hate doing the shopping, and it won’t get done tomorrow if we’re taking the kids out, so I found some time. I gotta get to The Drop in a couple of hours, though. I can cook you something, if you want.”

Adrian chuckles, “I only hate shopping ‘cos when I come back you say I got the wrong peppers, or the wrong milk, I even got the salt wrong once.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Deran grins, sitting down on the floor next to Adrian, mindlessly looking at the books and CD’s that Adrian’s packing. “You know how I talked to the boys about Hawaii, and they said they were fine with it?”

Adrian pauses from putting another couple of books in the box. “They haven’t changed their minds, have they? Tried to change yours?”

“No, uh, not that.” Deran scratches his neck, “They kinda got it into their heads that they wanna relocate too. Apparently I sold them pretty hard on Oceanside being dangerous for a retired Cody.”

“What?” Adrian shuffles around to face Deran, “They _what_?”

“I told them no, that they can’t move with us, but they’re pretty set on it. Pope wants to sell the bowling alley, they’re looking at what people in the property company they wanna put in charge when we’re gone. They’ve decided we’re gonna try to be owners from a distance, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll sell the whole thing. Should be worth a lot of money, we still have a lot of property in sweet places.”

“Fucking hell, man.” Adrian swears, folding over to lean his head on Deran’s shoulder. “So, what, they’re moving there with us? That’s not exactly what I had envisioned.”

“I know.” Deran says, moving his hand to run his fingers through Adrian’s newly cut hair. He looks good in it, more refined. The short style brings out the ginger in his hair. “I’ve been trying to talk them out of it for a couple of weeks. I’ve made it clear to them you and I are doing this for us, to give things a real chance at getting better.”

“What did they say to that?” Adrian asks.

This is the type of thing they never used to speak about, and that they’ve only hesitantly, or angrily, approached in the last year. Deran laces his fingers with Adrian’s, “They were cool about it. Said they understood that and weren’t gonna ruin shit for us. Depending on where we end up, they’ll get something one or two communities over.”

“They’re gonna live together?” 

Deran huffs, “Pope says yes, Craig says no. They’ll probably still argue about it as they move into a fucking duplex.”

They’re quiet for a couple of minutes, Deran sweeping his thumb back and forth over Adrian’s knuckle. He can hear Adrian thinking, going over everything Deran’s just said, and probably a lot of things Deran’s said in the past. 

“I could still tell them no, if you want me to. Nothing’s finalized here yet, if Craig’s moving I can’t give the bar to him so I’ll probably have to sell it, and finding a buyer could take a while. Selling Smurf’s house took for-fucking-ever.”

Adrian sighs, “I don’t know. I don’t… You once told me they would kill me. Remember that? How you were scared I was gonna die in prison and you’d worry it was one of your brothers that sent someone after me?”

The fear Deran feels whenever Adrian brings up that night on the pier, rears its ugly head again. He swallows, “Yeah, I remember.”

“I know they seem to accept me. But I don’t trust them, and I don’t think I ever will. Craig was a fucking bro to me, and he turned on me without a care.” Adrian runs a hand down his face, “I’m not telling you to tell them no, because it’ll only make them hate me, and because they’re grown men that can do whatever they want. But I don’t want them coming and going in our house, and I don’t want them butting into our business.”

“That’s fine, that’s what I want too.” Deran squeezes Adrian’s hand. “I’m not gonna let them mess things up for us. But I think they need a fresh start just as much as we do. If they stay here, Pope’ll turn psycho again, and Craig will get into trouble in a heartbeat, they’ll both end up in prison or dead within years without me around.”

“Hey, I don’t want you butting into their business either. Focus on our shit, thank you.” Adrian says. “You lucked out, huh? You get me, and you get your family. You don’t even have to choose this time.”

“Adrian…”

Adrian takes his hand away from Deran. “Don’t. I know it’s not the same, neither of us are the same as then. But what you did that night, picking them over me… Yeah, that’s always gonna hurt. I’m always gonna carry that with me, and when we fight, which we will, I will absolutely throw it in your face.”

“I _am_ picking you. I know it’s too late, but all this, I’m doing this for you, for us. I’m gonna get that through your thick skull one day.” Deran says, deciding to not pick a fight, “As for the others, I’ll make it clear what the rules are, and that they’re _my_ rules, not yours. ‘Cos making you happy is a pretty selfish thing for me.”

“It is?” Adrian asks. 

“Yeah.” Deran feels a flush work up his neck, but he still braves through the next few words, “You’re sexy when you’re happy.”

Adrian laughs, instantly proving Deran’s point. “Well, that’s true.”

**

The house isn’t shit, but it does have a draft that makes a whining noise. They get mostly new furniture, not bothering to bring the old and rickety stuff with them that neither of them knew where it came from in the first place. They do, however, bring the Scout in a container on a freight ship, filling the container with a number of moving boxes, surfboards, Deran’s motocross bike and anything else they can’t take on the airplane. 

Deran doesn’t tell Adrian, but Craig and Pope make arrangements for a container each, dividing what few belongings they’re taking with them between the two so that they can hide the safe with all the cash they’ve never laundered, and the loot they’ve kept because it’s always good to have collateral to sell or trade. Deran feels guilty about it, but at the same time, he finds it difficult to believe Adrian thinks they’re completely past their old ways. 

They don’t exactly live on the beach, but they’re up on a cliff overlooking it and it’s only a brisk ten-minute walk, meaning they start most days with a turn in the water. Adrian quickly makes friends with the local crowd, half of which are mainlanders that have moved to Hawaii for the waves and the lure of the island living. Most of them work in the tourist industry, and Adrian lands a gig as a surfing instructor after his once promising surfing career is revealed. 

Deran mostly tries to not look threatening at Adrian’s new friends, and rewards himself with a cigarette whenever he doesn’t snap at people for looking appreciatively at Adrian. It takes six months before he finds the opportunity he’s been looking for, a restaurant near the beach that’s closing down. He knows it’s risky but he buys it and puts up a wall, so that he can build a shop for Adrian on one side, and have a bar serving Mexican food on the other side. 

“You want me to what?” Adrian says as Deran shows him the space and talks about his plans.

“You can run your own shop in there.” Deran explains, again.

“I don’t have any clientele here, I don’t have any suppliers, and I don’t think this place needs another surf shop.”

“You’re good at what you do. The place with the red lights is solid, but the others are over-priced and barely know their shit, man, I’ve done research.” Deran says. “Besides, you don’t have to take on more than you want to. I just don’t get why you wanna give lessons when Mick tells you to, when you could run the show yourself.”

“I do like being my own boss.” Adrian says. “Fuck, yeah, okay, go for it and we’ll see what happens.”

“Yeah!” Deran whoops, lunging for Adrian and after a much too immature tickling game and chasing each other around the empty space, Deran sucks him off in the untidy and cold restaurant kitchen.

Things are finally resembling something good between them, and it’s only getting better. Even Craig and Pope’s arrival don’t hinder the progress much, thanks to them finding a property forty-five minutes away with two separate cottages on it. They help a little with the restaurant renovation but mostly they seem to be touring the island without much of a plan for the future. Deran suspects it’ll be a problem for them all further down the line, but right now he doesn’t care. He’s keeping to the plan and focusing on Adrian, just like Adrian asked him to. 

Adrian also asks him to come along on bonfire nights on the beach, and to let him know if Deran thinks he disappears into his head too much, and to talk as much as they can about the years they spent apart. It’s how Deran learns that Adrian had a cat at one point, and the fondness in Adrian’s voice makes Deran surprise him with a kitten a week later. Adrian’s token anger only lasts for about ten minutes before being completely charmed by little Missy. Deran tries to be a good co-parent but doesn’t really get the big deal. He mostly lets Adrian handle the cuddling and playing with Missy, but he’s an absolute sucker for the soft way Adrian looks at them when Deran lets Missy chill on his stomach. 

Sometimes they sit in their tiny garden in the dark evenings and look out over a star-filled sky and talk about their teenage years and early twenties, when they were absolute assholes scared of feelings. It’s a trip to hear Adrian thought about him sexually as young as fourteen years old. They never acted on it until they were eighteen. 

“It’s good you had the balls to shove your tongue down my throat.” Deran says, passing a joint over. 

“If I’d only known where it would lead us…” Adrian says wistfully.

“Would you still have done it? If you’d known?” Deran asks, because he loves to torment himself. 

“Probably not.” Adrian says quietly. 

Deran stares up at the sky. “Do you regret doing it?”

Adrian’s quiet for a long moment, clearly mulling the question over. At some point he gets up, stands above Deran. Deran’s terrified to meet his eyes for some reason. Adrian lets him ignore him for a couple of seconds before leaning down, taking Deran’s face in his hands. He looks into Deran’s eyes, and he looks happy, at ease. 

“No. I can’t say that I regret loving you. And I don’t hate myself for it neither.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this crazy story all this way! I know it's a bit OTT at times, and perhaps even OOC, but by golly I really needed to write Deran and Jess breaking down over missing Adrian together, and Deran breaking down when Adrian came back. Hmm, I guess I like tormented and broken Deran. Not that I'm sure he deserved an ending with both Adrian and his brothers picking him. You know where to find me if you wanna argue about that, or talk possible Det Pearce appearances in the coming season!
> 
> Anywho, massive thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed :)


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